Honeymoon on the Nile
by ulstergirl
Summary: Rewrite of Secrets of the Nile. Frank and Joe Hardy are asked to pose as a wealthy banker's two newlywed sons; Frank asks Nancy and Bess to play their wives, but Nancy gets Ned to come along as her fake husband. Adult language and situations.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a Nancy/Ned rewrite of the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys Super Mystery _Secrets of the Nile_, so if all the Nancy/Frank in that book got you excited, this isn't the story for you. It's rather like Third Person Point of View's Nancy Drew book rewrites (which are awesome, by the way), in that the setting is the present (the book was originally published in 1995), the detectives and their friends are old enough to drink, and some of the plot holes have been fixed. This will be the edited for TV version - while I'm not going to censor the language, which definitely includes a lot more cursing than the source material, I will take out any adultish scenes I think you wouldn't see in a PG-13 movie.**

**Also, reviews will probably make me update faster, so if you liked it, please let me know. ;)**

* * *

><p>"Beat you!" Nancy Drew declared breathlessly, as she pounded up the last step to the landing outside Ned Nickerson's apartment. She flashed her longtime boyfriend a bright, sassy grin.<p>

"Did not," Ned declared, catching up to her. "Or at least you wouldn't have, if that woman with the baby stroller hadn't been there."

Nancy pulled the ponytail ring out and tossed her reddish-gold hair as Ned keyed into his apartment. "Hey, it still counts," she told him, and glanced down when her cell phone chirped, indicating a new voicemail.

"Nancy, it's Frank. Can you give me a call on my cell ASAP? Thanks."

Nancy frowned as she listened to Frank Hardy's recorded voice. His usually calm tone had an edge of urgency to it. _New case_, she decided, as she pressed the _Return call_ button on her phone. While she waited for the call to connect, she unzipped her bright blue parka. Her five-mile run with Ned through his neighborhood had been pleasant, but chilly; Chicago was cold in November.

"Miss a call?" Ned asked, returning to the living room with a glass of water for her. He had already gulped down half his own; his handsome face was gleaming with sweat, as was hers.

Nancy nodded, accepting the glass gratefully. "Frank," she mouthed, as the phone finally clicked through and began to ring on the other end. Ned rolled his eyes and dropped onto the couch, reaching for the remote. He turned the television to ESPN, but muted the volume.

Frank answered on the second ring, just as Nancy was becoming engrossed in the ticker running across the bottom of the screen. "Hello?"

"Frank? It's Nancy."

"Thanks for calling me back so fast. I was worried you and Ned went on another one of your crazy no-cell-phone getaways."

"After ten minutes without hearing from me you start freaking out?" she laughed, sitting down on an arm of Ned's couch. "Calm down, Hardy. Big case?"

"When is it not?" Frank asked rhetorically. "You available?"

"Depends," she asked cheekily. "Are we talking something on the 'cat up a tree' end of the spectrum, or 'disgruntled Cold War spies' end?"

"Yeah, Drew, I routinely blow up your cell when stray dogs go missing," Frank said sarcastically. "You up for a trip to Egypt?"

Nancy glanced over at Ned and noticed that, while his eyes were glued to the screen, he definitely seemed to be engrossed in her call. "With you, anytime," she said, lowering her voice to a sultry purr. She had to giggle when Ned cut his eyes at her.

"Glad you said 'anytime.' Six-thirty tomorrow night from JFK."

"Damn." Nancy glanced at her watch. Just over twenty-four hours to pack and get a flight from O'Hare to JFK. At least it would be a good excuse to stay the night at Ned's, she thought, giving him a wink.

"I know it's short notice," Frank said, "but I really, _really_ need you on this."

"Surely the case hasn't already baffled the incomparable Hardys."

"More like we need some girls, so if you have any favors to call in with Bess, now's the time."

Nancy made a shocked sound. "Hardy, there are numbers you can call for that sort of thing... And there are easier ways to get Bess to go on a double date than flying her out to Egypt. A good bottle of champagne will generally do it."

Frank sighed loudly into Nancy's ear, and she grinned. "_Nancy_—God, you never make this easy, do you. I need you to pose as my wife. And Bess as Joe's—"

Nancy dropped the phone, prompting Ned to turn and stare curiously at her. "Shit," she muttered, groping for it between the couch cushions and accidentally pressing a few numbers on the keypad.

"Hello? _Ouch. _Nancy?"

"Sorry, I misheard you. What the blue _fuck_ was that?"

"I said," Frank repeated slowly, "that you and _I_ need to pose as _newlyweds_. Along with Joe and Bess."

"That's what I thought you said," Nancy muttered, moving to sit next to Ned on the couch. "Uh, _why_?"

"I was _getting_ to that, before you went nuts," Frank replied. "Joe and I were contacted by a guy from the State Department named Jonathan Kimball. He wants Joe and I to impersonate two brothers, Cole and Cooper Addison. They're having a double wedding tomorrow, and they were planning a honeymoon together in Egypt—"

"Really?" Nancy interjected. "_Together_? That's... really weird."

"Hey, not my department," Frank replied. "Anyway, everything was cool until the State Department got a tip that the Hajji planned to kidnap the brothers in Cairo and hold them for ransom."

"Hajji?"

"Brand new terrorist group."

"Hooray," Nancy said sarcastically. "And they're interested in the brothers because..."

"Well, they haven't been around long, but they've been focusing on American tourists. The State Department really wants to wipe these guys out, but they need intel."

"But why the Addisons? Are they loaded?"

"Their father, Charles Addison—"

"I've heard of him," Nancy said. "He's on the Forbes 100 list."

"Investment banker, and one of the richest guys in America, despite the economic meltdown. His sons joined in on the family business, and Charles and his family used to live in Cairo. That's why the brothers wanted to go there. So we just go as them..."

"And we're the bait."

"Basically." Frank sighed. "Which, yeah, incredibly dangerous. The Hajji won't know any better because apparently Joe and I have a close enough resemblance to them—Kimball says I look like Cole and Joe looks like Cooper. And I thought of you and Bess because Cole's fiancée, Rebecca, is tall and has long reddish-blonde hair, and Cooper's fiancée, Nikki—"

"Looks like Bess," Nancy finished with a sigh. Ned had his hand between them, palm up, on the couch, and Nancy placed her own palm over it.

Frank paused for a second. "Look, Kimball says he'll have a dozen agents watching at all times, but it's going to be really, _really_ fucking dangerous. You and Bess need to know that going in."

Nancy went quiet for a second, glancing over at Ned. Really fucking dangerous? She ate that for breakfast most mornings, with a side of chloroform. But posing as Frank's wife? Frank's life would be the one in danger, once Ned found out.

Nancy and Frank had known each other a long time—longer than she and Ned had known each other or been together. There had always been a spark of mutual attraction between them, and though they had shared a few kisses, their relationship had never gone any further. Now, though, she and Ned were serious, and while she couldn't be sure about Callie and Frank's relationship, she definitely didn't want to get in the middle of that. Oh, if only she could just pose as Ned's wife instead. She wouldn't have to have any awkward conversations with Frank, wouldn't have to play it off when they were sharing the same hotel room, or however he had it worked out.

"Hey, Nancy?" Frank interrupted her thoughts. "If the thought of playing my wife freaks you out—"

"I—" Nancy began. "It's... kinda, yeah. Look, can I call you right back— Did you say the brothers work with their dad?"

"Yeah," Frank said slowly. "I don't have a lot of time on this, so if I need to find some other people to play Rebecca and Nikki—"

"No, no. I think we can work it out. Give me five minutes."

Once she had sworn to Frank that she would call him right back, Nancy hung up the phone and turned to Ned, who had abandoned all pretense of actually watching the sportscast. "Shit," Ned cursed. "When I see that look in your eye—"

Nancy scooted in close to Ned and picked up his hand, stroking it slowly. "Ned," she cooed, making her eyes wide and innocent. "How much vacation time did you say you had?"

Ned tilted his head back until it was resting on the back of the couch and squeezed his eyes tight shut. His voice was tense. "You mean that time we were going to use as _vacation_ so we could get away from cases for a while? _That_ time?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "You think maybe... you could use that time so we could go to Egypt together? As husband and wife?" At the suddenly avid look in his eyes, she hastened to add, "Well, for a case."

Ned's brow furrowed in suspicion. "The catch being that it's hella dangerous."

Nancy nodded. "Frank wants me to pose as his wife, but you and Frank bear a close resemblance already..."

Ned nodded. "Plus, if you were playing his wife, I would literally _murder him._"

Nancy was pretty sure he was joking. Mostly. "So this is a good compromise."

"So, I gather that Bess will be playing Joe's wife, so... where does that leave Frank?"

"I thought of that," Nancy said with a grin. "So you'll do it?"

Ned heaved a huge mock sigh. "The things I do for you..."

Nancy gave Ned a smacking kiss on the cheek, sweeping up her phone and hitting the _Redial_ button. Frank answered on the first ring, this time.

"Okay," Nancy said breathlessly, "we'll do it. Well, Ned and I will do it, I have to call Bess and see if she's free, but I'm sure she will—"

"Hang on, _Ned_?"

"Yeah," Nancy said defensively. "Look, you and Ned look really similar, so if you look like Cole, Ned does too. I mean, hell, Cole is practically, _literally_, his middle name. And Joe and Bess can be Cooper and Nikki—"

"Need I remind you, Kimball asked _me_ and Joe to pose as the brothers."

"Because you _look_ like one of them," she said. "Ned can take care of himself."

"And that leaves me playing what role, here?" Frank asked. "There is no third brother."

"But you said they work with their dad," Nancy pointed out. "So it's not out of the question that they would have a personal assistant accompany them on this trip. Maybe even two."

"If you're about to say George—"

"You read my mind."

Frank was quiet for a minute. "I don't know," he said.

"Look, if these guys are that dangerous, and you're worried _even though_ we'll have a dozen agents covering us? Then there's safety in numbers. Bess'll need all the help she can get, so having Joe _and_ you or George around here all the time will just make her safer. And I think Ned and I can play really convincing newlyweds."

After another few minutes of playing devil's advocate, Frank finally heaved a huge sigh and conceded defeat. "Look, I'll have to clear this with Kimball, and does Ned have a permit to carry?"

"Yeah, we both do."

"Let me call him, and you call Bess, and I'll let you know what he says. He might not approve this little scheme of yours, Drew. In the meantime, though, get passport photos for everyone and email them to me so they can dummy up our passports and visas. And don't worry about packing—Kimball said they'll take care of that for us. Since we're impersonating rich bankers—or maybe their _personal assistants,_" he said darkly, "he wanted to make sure we look the part. New wardrobes and everything."

"Well, you just gave me the best selling point ever for Bess," Nancy laughed. "Okay, Frank, call me back with the go-ahead, and we'll see you tomorrow at JFK."

* * *

><p>Joe Hardy glanced at his watch. "If they don't get here soon, we are barely gonna get through security in time," he groused, running a hand through his blond hair.<p>

"Relax. Nancy said they wouldn't be here until four, and I'm sure we can get through in two and a half hours." Frank Hardy, the elder of the two brothers, leaned back in the booth and took a long swig of his beer. Despite his reassurance, he raised a finger, gesturing to the waitress that he was ready for the bill.

The waitress, a long-legged redhead, maneuvered gracefully through the crush of commuters milling in the tiny airport bar and landed at their table with a grin. "Sure you don't want another round?" she asked, glancing between the two brothers.

"I sure would," Joe said appreciatively.

Frank kicked him under the table. "We'd love to, but we have to get to our gate," he apologized, flipping open his wallet and handing over a credit card. Since Kimball hadn't provided their new documents yet, he had his own wallet, bulging with credit cards and credentials.

Joe scowled at his brother as the waitress sauntered away, hips swinging, with Frank's credit card. "Hey," he objected, rubbing at his shin. "What was that for?"

"You're about to be married, _Cooper_."

"And you just handed out ID with your real name on it, _Frank_," Joe retorted. "We're not married yet."

"Fine, just rub it in," Bess Marvin said.

Frank and Joe glanced up. Nancy Drew, her long reddish-gold hair in an elegant twist, stood grinning at their table, her purse slung over her shoulder. Ned Nickerson, tall, dark, and very handsome, was at her side. Bess Marvin's long blonde hair was styled straight and fell halfway down her back, and she carried what was doubtless an expensive small duffel emblazoned with some angular logo. Her cousin, George Fayne, looked businesslike and slightly uncomfortable in a black pencil skirt and pale blue button-down, small stud earrings gleaming from her ears. Bess, Nancy, and Ned were dressed in upscale casual, all the better for their insanely long flight.

Frank slid out of the booth and wrapped Nancy in a hug, carefully avoiding Ned's narrowed gaze. "Good to see you," he said when he pulled back.

"Good to see you too," she replied, blue eyes sparkling. "Joe."

Joe nodded at them, and once Frank had signed the credit card receipt, the six of them headed out.

"They're gonna ask if we have any bags to check," Bess pointed out, as they approached the check-in counter. "And I guess I have to check _this_, which is a crock of shit. Fascists," she muttered, looking down at her bag. "And, why the hell am I not allowed to wear my own clothes? What if this Kendall—"

"Kimball," Frank corrected mildly.

"Whatever," Bess said, waving her hand. "Anyway, what if he actually got me _boot-cut_ pants to wear." She shuddered dramatically. "I will _not_ look all stumpy on this trip."

"Oh, like you would ever look stumpy," Joe reassured her, bumping his shoulder against hers. "But you do have a point. If we don't see Kimball soon, we'll be in trouble."

"Mr. Cole Addison? Mr. Cooper Addison?"

The six of them turned to see a man in a skycap uniform approaching with a cart full of expensive-looking black leather luggage. Frank scrutinized him carefully, amazed that this was the same man he had seen the day before at his house. Kimball was tall, forty or so, with silvering dark hair, cool eyes, and a triangular scar on his right cheek. He looked entirely different in the uniform.

Kimball handed over an envelope marked "Cooper Addison—CONFIDENTIAL." Joe opened the flap and peeked inside.

"Everything you should need is in there," Kimball said. "Good luck."

Frank nodded. "I'll call if we run into any problems."

Kimball shook his head vehemently. "No. We can't take that risk. I've provided three cell phones in the kit; use them if you need me, but we have to be careful. The Hajji can't know that we're working together."

"Well. Nice guy," George commented as Kimball hurried away, her hands on her hips. "Okay, let's get through security, which, by the way, I am _really_ looking forward to getting my shoes off in this fucking tight skirt. _Bess._"

"It makes your ass look great," Bess defended herself as they moved toward the Air Egypt desk.

The attendant at the counter took their tickets and passports with a smile, and Frank held his breath. The documents had been forged by the State Department; they _had_ to be perfect. Even so, he was nervous.

"Very good," she said. "And how many bags will you be checking?"

The six of them manhandled the luggage onto the scales, while Frank and George kept the laptop bags they were using as part of their cover. After the screamingly frustratingly long wait at security, collecting shoes and belts and passports and pocketbooks and laptops, Frank made a beeline for the Air Egypt first-class lounge near the gate.

"We can actually get in here?" Bess breathed. "Oh, wow. _Awesome._"

Frank was having his ticket checked at the door when George felt a tap on her shoulder. "Sorry, I forgot this one," Kimball said, handing her a duffel-sized shoulder bag, in matched black leather to go with the rest of the set. She nodded and gazed after him curiously, then walked into the lounge with the rest of the group.

Once they were seated in one of the lounge areas, Frank took the envelope from Joe and surreptitiously distributed the contents. Two ring boxes went to Joe, and two to Ned. Frank handed out their dossiers as well, then peeked into an inner envelope. He let out a low whistle.

"Hmm?" Nancy asked.

"First-class tickets. And spending money," he said, then pulled out the three cell phones. He, Joe, and Nancy each took one.

Ned took Nancy's out of her hand, gazing at it appreciatively. "High-end," he commented.

In the meantime, Joe took the rings out of their boxes under the table and handed Bess her engagement ring and one of the plain gold wedding bands. She squealed when she saw the ring, a glittering pear-shaped diamond surrounded by tiny sapphires.

"You think I'll be able to keep this?" she asked, admiring the way it looked on her finger.

"Yeah, right," Joe replied, trying to put the band on his ring finger. "Shit. I _told him_ my ring size."

"I think that one's mine," Bess said with a giggle.

On the other end of the table, Ned handed Nancy her engagement ring, a clear square-cut diamond flanked by a trio of smaller diamonds on each side. She looked down at it with a soft smile on her face.

"Here," Ned said, "let me do that."

The flush that was already in her cheeks rose a little when Ned took her hand and slid the engagement ring onto her finger. She looked up at him and their gazes met for a long, silent moment. Frank swallowed the sudden bitterness he felt rising in his throat, and ripped his gaze away from them with effort.

"Hey, can we get a drink in here?" George commented, hefting the duffel onto the table.

"What's that?" Frank asked.

"Oh. Kimball caught up to me and said he'd forgotten this one." George stood, smoothing down her skirt, and looked over at the bar. "You guys want anything?"

"Hell yeah," Joe replied, rising from his chair. "Let's get a round before I have to settle in with the old ball and chain."

Bess made a face at Joe. "Yeah, you'll be eating those words later," she told him. "Old ball and chain," she muttered under her breath.

Frank looked at the duffel to keep from looking at Nancy and Ned, who were exchanging wedding bands with far more gravity than Joe and Bess had. That was when he noticed the pair of eyes visible over an _International Herald-Tribune_, staring right at the same duffel bag, from across the room.

George and Joe returned to the table with four beers and two cosmopolitans. Joe glanced over his shoulder as he put his beers down. "Hey, Frank," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Frank confirmed, just as quietly.

George glanced over her shoulder as well. The man, noticing their scrutiny, abruptly rose and crossed to the restrooms.

"Okay. Let's get our cover IDs set and get rid of the dossiers," Frank told the table quietly.

George rolled her eyes, taking a long sip of her beer. "I'm a fucking personal assistant," she said.

"I don't think personal assistants say 'fuck' that much," Frank commented, and earned a glancing blow from one of George's pumps under the table.

Half an hour later, all of them pleasantly buzzed by the alcohol, they headed out, taking their seats at the gate. Frank noticed that the man they had seen in the lounge was now three gates down, still supposedly engrossed in his newspaper. Frank had taken possession of the duffel, since Kimball hadn't put a name on it; he had to admit that not playing Nancy's husband left him feeling a little at sea, no matter how much she protested.

Four security officers approached the desk just outside the gate, and Frank's already heightened awareness kicked up a notch. The attendant at the gate took the phone off the hook and cleared her throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen on the six-thirty flight to Cairo, we will be going through a routine, random second baggage screening. Please line up near the tables to the left of the gate. Proceed in an orderly way and we'll be finished with this quickly. Those couples traveling with small children—"

Frank tuned out the rest, shuffling with the rest of the passengers toward the tables. The bored-looking security officers were already gloved and checking tickets.

When Frank was motioned over to the tables, he held his breath again as his passport was checked against his ticket. A large officer with a gleaming shaved head motioned for him to put his duffel on the table, and unzipped it.

Then his eyes widened, and Frank watched with rising horror as the officer reached simultaneously for his weapon and the radio clipped to his shoulder.

"Bomb," Frank read the man's lips. "Repeat, we have a possible bomb at Gate E23."

Then he brought his gun out of his holster and pointed it straight at Frank.


	2. Chapter 2

Four hours, seventeen phone calls, and a cavity search later, Frank Hardy winced as he buckled himself into his first-class seat. Nancy was gazing over at him sympathetically as the stewardess approached her.

"Mrs. Addison? I was so sorry to hear your illness kept you from the earlier flight. I can get a ginger ale for you before takeoff, if that would help."

The woman looked so concerned that Nancy nodded, theatrically rubbing her stomach. "I guess I overdid it with the champagne last night," Nancy said, exchanging a gleeful glance with Ned. "But I think a girl deserves to treat herself during her wedding reception."

The stewardess's eyes widened with happy surprise. "Oh, congratulations! And thanks so much for choosing Air Egypt for your honeymoon plans."

She hurried away, and Ned shook his head as Nancy dug in her purse for the small notebook she kept at all times to record clues. "I wish we _had_ killed a bottle of champagne last night," he told her, his voice pitched low. Then he leaned in close to her, his lips hot against her cheek. "Tell me you packed something sexy for our honeymoon, _dear_."

"Where do you think I was all morning?" Nancy murmured back, careful not to meet Ned's gaze. As soon as she did, she knew she would entirely lose her train of thought.

_You okay? Sure about this?_

Nancy folded the note and motioned for Ned to pass it across the aisle to Frank. Ned obeyed, then reached for her again. The stewardess returned with a glass of ice and a can of ginger ale in time to see Ned with his hand tenderly cupped over Nancy's cheek, their gazes locked.

She smiled when Nancy finally noticed her and accepted the ginger ale and glass. "You two are _such_ a cute couple," she gushed, giggling as Nancy nodded her thanks.

The note came back across the aisle and Nancy unfolded it as Ned took a swig from her ginger ale. "What?" he protested. "We're married now. It's okay for us to swap spit."

She looked up from the note long enough to make a face at him.

_You mean you aren't curious about why "Kimball" was having us smuggle a bomb for him? We have to figure out what's going on so we can stop him._

Nancy sighed and composed a hasty reply. _Did you get in touch with the Gray Man?_

The Gray Man was the Hardys' contact in the Network, a top-secret crimefighting agency with government ties. The Gray Man's word went unchallenged in sticky situations of questioned identity. However, given the length of time Frank had spent in the back room while Nancy had faked illness to give an excuse for their delay, Nancy was wondering if he had disavowed the whole thing, too.

Frank shot Nancy a look across the aisle, but Nancy's attention was distracted when the stewardesses began to go through the preflight spiel. Bess took her headphones off, feigning interest, and Joe was flipping through a sports magazine. George, Nancy noted with some interest, was reading another copy of the same magazine; her laptop was open on the tray table.

_Had to leave him a message. And call in A LOT of favors. Thank God I still had my real wallet on me. Wonder what other surprises we're going to run into._

"If you're seated in the emergency aisle and feel you cannot perform the tasks mentioned, please let an attendant know immediately so your seat can be reassigned," the toneless recorded voice said.

_You think he wanted to blow up that plane?_

_I think we'd know by now, but maybe not. But I don't think so. I think there's some bigger game on._

Nancy had to pull out a fresh sheet from her notepad to continue, and ripped the first into very, very tiny pieces. It would never do for their notes to be intercepted; she didn't relish the thought of being frisked and interrogated by an air marshal.

She was momentarily distracted by the thought of Ned _pretending_ to be an air marshal.

_Why go to all this trouble, though?_

"For those of you who wish it, this flight _does_ offer in-flight wireless internet services. Once the pilot has turned off the fasten seat belts sign and approved electrical devices are released for use, simply log on and use a major credit card to surf the internet while you let us handle the flying."

Nancy glanced over at George, who had shut the laptop just before the request to turn them off came over the intercom.

_I have a hunch. The Addison wedding should at least be on some celebrity blogs. See if George can find mention of it anywhere._

Ned passed the note, then opened the in-flight dinner menu. "Fuck," he swore quietly. "Listen to this. 'Roasted duckling with raspberry and shallot glaze. Fillet of sole with chervil beurre blanc.' It's like we're flying courtesy Chez Louis."

Nancy smiled at Ned's reference to their favorite restaurant, just outside River Heights, that specialized in French cuisine. "Are the prices better?"

"Uh, twice as high," Ned said, after some quick calculations. "And if that asshole Kimball is paying for it, then I'm ordering half this stuff."

"Sounds like a good trade-off."

Bess turned around in her seat, looking back at Nancy and Ned. "Shrimp cocktail!" she mouthed, giving them a thumbs-up.

Nancy chuckled and nodded. "I think if I'm still not 'feeling well,' I should probably get the crudités," she said mournfully, gazing at Ned's menu.

Ned patted her hair reassuringly. "Oh, my poor little Becca," Ned said. "I'll sneak you some bites of filet mignon when no one's looking."

Nancy smiled and touched his hand. "Look... I don't think I said thank you enough, for going along with this," she said softly. "I know this isn't quite what you had in mind for our vacation..."

"Well, you went a long way toward making it up to me last night," Ned said softly, his brown eyes glowing. Nancy felt a small shiver travel down her spine as she remembered the night before. "And if you're still feeling guilty, I am more than happy to hold you to a repeat performance once we get to our hotel."

"Mmmm," Nancy said, her gaze locked to his. "Well, we are newlyweds, after all, and we need to make it convincing."

"I say that we try to get hotel security called to tell us to keep it down," Ned said, raising an eyebrow. "You said convincing, right?"

Nancy sighed and patted his arm. "Babe, you know that that shouldn't be your goal _every time_ we stay at a hotel, right?"

"It's worked out well for me so far," Ned said, just before his mouth brushed hers.

* * *

><p>As soon as the fasten seat belt light blinked out, Bess unfastened her seat belt and stretched luxuriously. Joe found his gaze wandering over to her chest, shown to advantage in a tight grey cashmere sweater.<p>

Then his gaze rose to her eyes, and she already had an eyebrow raised.

"How do you _do_ that," Joe said enviously.

"Stretch?" she said archly. "Or keep my eyes off other people's chests."

"Raise one eyebrow. Plus, remember, we're married now, _Mrs. Addison._"

Bess chuckled and looked down at her rings. "Mmmm. Yes. So I guess you'll just have to keep looking, huh? And... speaking of," she said, lowering her voice, "how are we handling sleeping arrangements?"

"How do you _want_ to handle sleeping arrangements?" Joe said, wiggling his own eyebrows.

Bess made a face at him, then shot a sunny grin at the steward who delivered their shrimp cocktails. "Wish they'd had burgers," Joe muttered, lifting one massive shrimp from the martini glass of cocktail sauce.

"Hey, you don't want it, leave it for me," Bess said, squeezing the tail of her first shrimp to suck the last bit of meat out. Joe watched, frozen in rapt attention, and was only aware he wasn't breathing when she discarded the empty shell and started on the next.

"Damn. You are _really_ good at this whole thing, aren't you," Bess teased him, dunking the shrimp into the sauce. "Anyway. Beds?"

Joe used the excuse to lean in close to her, keeping his voice down. "Well, supposedly we have adjoining suites—"

Bess leaned back, her blue eyes wide. "What the hell? _What_ did you just say?"

"Adjoining suites," Joe repeated in his normal voice.

"Okay. Seriously. What _normal_ couples would actually get fucking _adjoining suites_ on their honeymoon?" Bess hissed. "Oh my God. Are they, like, into crazy shit? Is this like some sort of bizarre _Sister Wives_ situation?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "B—Babe," he amended quickly, glad he covered the almost-slip, "it'll be easier for us to move between each other's rooms if we're in adjoining suites."

"Oh, like you and Frank can't do some kind of ninja shit between the balconies." Bess snorted. "Sorry. You and—what's his name again?"

"Frank," Joe shrugged. "It seemed easier. Frank Carter."

"God. Could that sound more generic." Bess sucked the meat out of the next shell, and Joe didn't miss how her eyes glowed when they met his after. "Distracted,—_darling_?"

"A little," Joe admitted. "But any guy would be. _Especially_ any guy who had you using that tongue on him last night."

"Are you saying you'd actually ask for head on your wedding night?" Bess said sweetly, and Joe choked on his bite of shrimp. Once he had washed it down with a swig from the overpriced scotch "Cooper" would have ordered, he cut his eyes at her. She was vibrating with silent laughter beside him.

"You still haven't answered my question," she reminded him, once she recovered.

"You don't deserve _anything_ after that little stunt," Joe said in mock anger. "Anyway, yeah, I did answer you. It's up to you."

"So it'll be me and," she said, gesturing with her shoulder at her cousin, "or me and you."

"Theoretically, yeah." Joe sucked the last morsel of meat out of his shrimp and tossed the shell onto the china saucer beneath the glass.

"That's a lot of pressure," Bess mused, idly dipping another shrimp into the sauce.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the co-captain announced over the intercom, "we have now reached our cruising altitude, and you may now use approved electrical devices, including any wireless-capable devices. We will also be taking orders for any alcoholic beverages you may want. If you have a voucher, please have it ready. We—"

Bess's attention was distracted when her cousin poked her in the shoulder. "Hey," George said. "You awake up there?"

Bess turned around, glaring at her cousin through the gap between the plush, padded seats, and surreptitiously shot her the finger. "My _husband_ and I are discussing... things," she finished lamely.

"Well, Becca asked me to look up something for her, and I'd rather shoot myself in the fucking head, so."

George handed over the laptop and charger, and a small slip of paper. Bess read it with interest. "Huh," she said.

"Mmm?"

"_Becca_," Bess said, emphasizing the name to help her remember it, "is apparently curious to see how much media attention our lavish wedding attracted."

"Really?"

Bess gestured absently to the note as she put her empty martini glass on Joe's tray table and opened the laptop. "Yep."

"I think she's more interested in something else."

Bess glanced up, her eyes already narrowed. "If you about to make some lame dick joke—"

"Don't have to," Joe said, his eyes dancing with merriment. He jerked his shoulder up the aisle. Ned was just vanishing into the bathroom, and Nancy was just unbuckling her belt to follow. Bess tried to stare a hole in the back of her friend's head, and once Nancy vanished into the tiny, cramped airplane bathroom, Bess turned around and met George's similarly disgusted gaze.

"God," Bess sighed dramatically, pulling out her cover credit card. "They are so fucking predictable."

"That for cover?" Joe whispered.

"Oh my God, no. I hope he gets his foot stuck in the toilet," Bess said darkly as she typed in the card's number.

"You sound jealous."

Bess jerked her head up. "Have you ever _tried_ to get romantic in an airplane bathroom?" she asked scornfully. "It—"

Then her cheeks turned pink and she whipped her gaze back to the screen.

"Why, _darling_," Joe drawled, "this is a side of you I've never seen before."

"Now who sounds jealous," Bess muttered, a small smile on her lips as she navigated through the welcome screen, then to a search engine.

"Hey. Let me check my email real quick," Joe said, wiggling his fingers as he reached for the laptop.

"This is probably, like, a thousand dollars a minute," Bess protested, then shrugged. "But that douchebag is paying for it, so hell, go ahead. Download some porn while you're at it, that'll really drive up the bandwidth."

"And fuck up this computer," Joe replied, typing in his email access address.

"You sound real sure about that, _babe_," Bess said, slipping one headphone back over her ear. She really had dressed the part; a small diamond stud glittered in each earlobe. "That's a side of you _I_... hope I never see."

Once Joe was finished, he handed back the laptop. Bess's fingers flew as she navigated to a popular celebrity gossip site.

"Didn't know you could type so fast," Joe commented.

"I can't," Bess admitted. "This isn't typing, this is _internet._"

Joe shrugged in agreement, leaning over to see Bess's screen. The glare from the window obscured it from his angle.

"Huh," Bess said, a few minutes later. "Okay, so, no grainy paparazzi photos, not even a blurb. Weird."

Joe shifted in his seat. "Hey. How long you think they're gonna be in there? I had too much beer earlier."

"TMI, babe," Bess replied. "And, also in the TMI category... _Cole_ can go for hours."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Anything you want to tell me, _Nikki_?"

Bess rolled her eyes. "I've been unlucky enough to be in the room beside theirs on a case," she said. "Sometimes I think he's trying to make sure she's too exhausted or unable to walk the next day so she won't go—"

"_Nananananana_ not listening," Joe sing-songed, holding his hands over his ears. "_God_, B—babe."

Bess shrugged. "You asked."

"I really didn't," Joe objected, and unfastened his belt. Both first-class bathrooms were occupied, and Joe tried to focus on the drone of the engines instead of the faint bumping he could hear inside the bathroom Nancy and Ned had vanished into. He went back to his seat and turned around, and Frank glanced up from his magazine.

"You okay?"

Frank gave him a sardonic look. "I'll live. I tell you what, when I was expecting a honeymoon, it definitely wasn't going to be like that," he muttered. "Any new insights?"

"Well, one. Maybe I should ramp up my commitment to my role," Joe said, nodding in the direction of the first-class bathroom. By Frank's pointed look, Joe knew he hadn't missed Nancy and Ned's obvious intention. "I think we should ditch our new phones," he mouthed.

Frank nodded. "Bugs?" he mouthed back.

"Bugs, trackers, who knows what. Another fucking... device," Joe barely saved, scanning the cabin for the sure-to-be-there air marshal. "God, I wish you'd been able to get in touch with you-know-who."

"Voldemort?" George said aloud, and snickered when Joe flipped her off. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

Joe fidgeted in his chair again. He saw Nancy and Ned emerge from the bathroom, holding hands, and started to get up—only to see a woman in a matched twinset two rows up get to her feet first. Nancy and Ned moved around her, ignoring what Joe was sure was a pointed glare, and moved back into their seats.

Joe shot them a thumbs-up gesture. Nancy flipped him off in return. "Later," Joe mouthed, and winked, earning a glare from Ned for his trouble.

"Okay," Bess said, her voice flat and distracted as she peered at the screen. "Is he wearing both shoes? Never mind, I don't want to know. I'm at the _Times_ website and—well, there's no announcement of any engagements or weddings like what we're looking for within the last _year_."

"Sounds like you and... Becca, might not exist."

Bess heaved a sigh of relief. "So _fuck_ that New York City marathon shit," she said gleefully. "Ahhhhhh. That feels so good."

Joe chuckled at her reference to her cover identity. "Was it really weighing on you that much?"

"Hell yes!" Bess said indignantly, and lowered her voice when the couple in front of them turned around, scowls on their faces. "Yeah," she said quietly. "_Jogging_ every morning? Having to use words like _tendon_ and _quadriceps_ in normal conversation?"

"Yeah, like every phys ed major does," Joe laughed.

"Hey, shut up," Bess said, and then shot him a sweet smile. "And how about flagging down a stewardess for another shrimp cocktail. Or maybe some duck. We're going forward in time and I need to make up for the missed meals."

George punched the back of her cousin's seat. "Cheese tray," she hissed, and smothered a giggle when Bess flipped her off between the seats.

"Okay, this is fucking ridiculous," Joe hissed, and stood up. "I'll be back."

"Want me to go with you?" Bess asked, fluttering her eyelashes, and Joe was lucky the plane hit a small patch of rough air then, because the look in her blue eyes knocked him a little off balance.

"Uh... I think I'll be okay."

"Well, call if you need me," she said, and tapped her slick berry-shaded lips.

Joe shivered, trying to put it out of his mind as he headed into the coach compartment. The seats were full; with any luck, the bathroom would be unoccupied. Joe began to maneuver through the narrow aisle, and caught himself quickly when the plane dipped through another rough patch. He grabbed an armrest to steady himself, and then glanced into the eyes of the man seated there.

It was the man who had been watching them in the Air Egypt lounge.


	3. Chapter 3

"This place is amazing." Bess gazed out the taxi window at the streets of Cairo. Behind them, Nancy glanced back to check, the cab carrying Frank, Joe, and George chugged along. Nancy propped her head on Ned's shoulder and gazed out his window, and he put his hand on her knee.

Cairo really was amazing. The narrow streets were crowded with all of the city's living history: thousand-year-old mosques, cemeteries, mud-brick houses with clotheslines and laundry flapping alongside, convenience stores advertising prepaid cell phones and the latest movie releases. Bikes and camels traveled alongside sleek modern cars and rusted older models. The pedestrians were dressed in both Western and traditional Islamic dress; from her guidebook and the brief internet research she had done before boarding the plane, Nancy recognized khimars, or traditional headscarves, and the long robes worn by both genders. In comparison, tourists who looked clearly American were baring a shocking amount of leg and midriff. Nancy smacked Ned's thigh playfully when his gaze followed one scantily-clad expatriate in interest.

"Hey," Ned protested. "Oh. I'm sorry, honey. It's our honeymoon. Let me just look at those legs of yours."

"Honeymoon!" the cab driver repeated in heavily accented English. "Very happy time!"

Nancy and Ned nodded to him in the rearview, smiling. Bess rolled her eyes and continued staring out the window. So far in Cairo almost everyone they had interacted with spoke English, which was good. Nancy had her phrasebook, but Bess, Ned, George, and Joe seemed to be particularly helpless with the language. Nancy had to admit that she did find the Arabic script on the signs a little disorienting.

"This your first time in Cairo?" the cabbie asked, glancing over his shoulder at them.

"Their first time, but I've been here before," Ned said, and took Nancy's hand in his. "Wanted my fia—wow, I'm just so used to saying that. Wanted to show my _wife_ where I grew up."

"Ahh!" the cabbie said, and then lapsed into a string of rapid Arabic.

Ned laughed aloud. "Sorry, sorry," he said. "It was when I was young. All I can remember now is _as-salam alaykum_ and _Shukran_ and _helow_."

"_Na'am_," the cabbie said. "Very good. She is indeed beautiful."

Nancy leaned in close to Ned. "Damn," she whispered. "You did some homework."

"Hey," Ned said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I had to do something while you were out shopping."

Nancy smiled and gave him a soft kiss, while beside them Bess stifled a huge yawn. "What time is it?" Bess asked, glancing down at her watch. "Oh my God, it's like 9 a.m. and I got maybe thirty minutes of sleep on the plane because _someone_ wouldn't stop snoring."

"It is just after 4 o'clock, ma'am," the cabbie reported.

Bess sighed dramatically and tossed her arm across her eyes. "Wake me tomorrow," she moaned.

"Sounds like a great idea," Ned said, nuzzling against Nancy's neck.

"Hey," Nancy said softly, giving him a little shove. "They kinda frown on PDA here."

"Yeah," Bess chimed in, looking over at them. "And by the way, have you guys not had enough of each other yet? After the _plane_?" She let out an indignant snort.

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other. Joe, Bess, and George hadn't let up on teasing them about it, although Ned seemed to get more and more sanguine about it. Frank had just looked kind of pained whenever they brought it up. "That was like twelve hours ago," Ned pointed out. "This is a _honeymoon_. We're supposed to have sex, like, every forty-five minutes."

"My, aren't we optimistic," Bess said dryly, tossing her arm back over her eyes again.

The two cabs pulled up at the Grand Hotel Misr, on the banks of the Nile. The hotel was an old converted palace; the entry garden featured an elaborate stone fountain and eucalyptus and palm trees. A smiling attendant escorted them from their cabs, and gestured to a bellhop to collect their bags. Nancy glanced at the black leather set and wished to God she never saw it again. Around her, George and Bess's faces were pinched in discomfort from the length of the flight and their exhaustion, and they stretched their legs, yawning. Frank and Joe looked marginally better, but all the bustle of the city and the scenery that had blurred by the cab windows was just draining them all faster.

Even so, the lobby was a sight in itself. Vaulted gilded ceilings gleamed high above them, punctuated by the occasional Oriental chandelier. Egyptian tapestries and objets d'art were displayed on the walls and small ornate pillars. A grand marble staircase was the focal point, and for a moment Nancy deliriously imagined walking down it wearing a very formal sweeping dress in black satin with a long train, and gloves, and maybe a tiara, and then she realized that she desperately needed to get a nap because she _never_ had daydreams about wearing tiaras. Not anymore.

"Hello," the clerk greeted them with a smile, and Nancy realized they had already been pegged as Americans. "May I welcome you to the Grand Hotel Misr. Do you have a reservation?"

Ned stepped forward. "The Cole Addison party," he said smoothly, reaching for his passport. The rest of them moved in kind, Bess the most slowly. Nancy was pretty sure Bess hadn't stopped yawning since they had exited the cab.

The clerk checked all the passports, then stacked them and jogged them onto the desk. "Very nice. For you we have the adjoining," and Nancy was pretty sure she didn't imagine the very faint eyebrow-raise at that, which she silently seconded, "suites in the tower annex, and a business-class suite on the other side of the hall which will suit your assistants perfectly. The rooms feature a gorgeous view, minibars, and full housekeeping service. Your keycards will allow you access to our full gym and pool areas, and our hotel restaurant is just through those doors." He gestured to a set of open doors to their right. "I will have Omar show you to your rooms."

Frank took a step toward the desk. "Our passports—"

"Must be surrendered for twenty-four hours, according to law," the clerk said smoothly, almost all in one word. Nancy was sure he had to say it several times a day. "All standard. No problem. Omar?"

The view really was spectacular, Nancy had to admit five minutes later when Omar showed them to their room. "Mr. and Mrs. Cole," he announced, and went around the room opening doors to show them the small safe and the minibar, but Nancy wasn't listening. The city, so different from everything she had ever seen before, and the Nile itself, and a view of the edge of the desert beyond filled the panoramic view. It was almost dizzying.

Omar left them with their luggage and led the rest of the rapidly flagging group to their rooms, and Nancy and Ned glanced at each other.

"Well, I really think there's something we need to do," Ned said, a small, nearly wicked grin on his face.

"I bet I can guess," Nancy said, and almost said wearily that she barely had enough energy to even take her clothes off, much less to do anything after, when Ned took her hand and led her out into the hallway.

"Mmm?" she said, glancing up at him, and then suddenly he reached down and swept her up into his arms.

"Put me down!" she ordered immediately, giggling. Then she touched his face. "You really don't have to do this."

"Sure I do," he said, his voice low and soft and pitched just for her. He carried her across the threshold and into the room, giving her an extra squeeze. Then he crossed the room to the palatial bedroom, opened the door, and tossed her onto the bed. Immediately he climbed onto it with her, and before he could kiss her, she stopped him with an open palm on his chest.

"I'm jetlagged and dusty and I need a shower," she cautioned him, her blue eyes searching his brown ones.

"Mmm, me too," he said teasingly, leaning down to kiss her, her body pinned under his. With a sigh Nancy wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers through his hair. His kisses always made her lightheaded, but with the jetlag, she was positively spinning when he pulled back and dotted kisses down her neck. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft pleased hum. So much more romantic than the airplane bathroom, that was for fucking sure. She gave a passing thought to the unshaded window, but she couldn't move even if she wanted to, and besides, they were nowhere near ground level. When Ned gently nudged his knee between hers, she wrapped one leg around him, her fingertips searching for the hem of his sweater. His hips surged against hers as she ran her nails across the small of his back.

"Oh, _gross._"

"Can't you guys _ever_ keep your hands to yourselves?"

Ned pushed himself up on his elbows as they both looked over to the source of the voices. Bess, George, Frank, and Joe stood in the sitting room of Nancy and Ned's suite, staring at them through the open bedroom door. Well, most of them were. Frank had his hands in his pockets and was staring in the general direction of the ceiling, possibly looking for some minor deity to save him from the sight.

"And _this_," Ned announced, slowly climbing off his girlfriend, "is why normal people do _not_ have their honeymoons in adjoining suites."

"I know, right?" Bess exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "What the hell, man."

"Well, we could always shove Nancy and Ned in the business suite and take this one," George suggested, glancing at her cousin.

"Oooh. I like that."

"Yeah, well, there's already Ned-cooties all over this bed," Nancy said, dragging her hand through her hair to put it in something near order as she sat up. "Plus, I'm sorry, we _are_ pretending to be on honeymoon, so what the hell is the problem?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that we have an _insane bomb plot_ to track down and you two are, like..." Joe threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

"Octopi in heat," George suggested helpfully. The other five stared at her. "What?"

Frank shook his head. "Look, I'm going to try to get in touch with the Gray Man again."

"Sounds fantastic," Bess said, stifling another huge yawn. "I'm gonna take a nap, and I don't even give a fuck whose room it's in. Or if there's an orgy going on at the time. Unless Johnny Depp's there. Then, I might postpone the nap, like, fifteen minutes."

"We shouldn't take naps," George said. "We need to go to sleep at the normal time here because it'll make the jet lag better tomorrow."

Bess stuck her tongue out at her cousin, as Frank patted his pockets. "There's a convenience store I saw about a block down," he said. "I need to get a throwaway and get rid of the phones Kimball gave us."

Bess pouted when she saw Joe and Nancy hand over the sleek, expensive phones. "I'm keeping my rings," she said stubbornly.

"You're definitely keeping your rings," Frank said. "We have to stick to the Addison cover or we might get deported."

"And that's such a bad thing because..." Bess rubbed at her eyes gently, careful not to disturb her elaborate eye makeup too much.

George sighed. "Because of the _bomb_," she and Joe chorused. "Jinx!"

"Guess I'll go get you a Coke," Joe replied. "Well, an Arabic Coke. What do they call it over here?"

"Coke, I bet," Nancy said tiredly. "And maybe, like, twelve packs of Red Bull?"

"Oh my God yes," Bess gushed. "And some vodka from the minibar."

"Come on," Joe said, grabbing her hand. "We're married. Let's go buy Coke and Red Bull and pretend we didn't just walk in on those two practically going at it." He shuddered theatrically.

Nancy blushed a little. Ned just sat down on the couch, his knees sprawled apart, and looked satisfied. Well, tired and satisfied.

George plopped down on the couch and opened her laptop. "Don't worry, I'll babysit them until you guys get back," she said. "And Joe?"

"Hmm?"

"Make it a Diet Coke."

"Is your line secure?"

"Yes," Frank answered, closing his eyes in a silent prayer of relief. "I'm so glad I was finally able to reach you."

"Looks like you're in..." Frank heard a few keystrokes. "Cairo?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid my brother and I have possibly walked into a setup."

Joe and Bess juggled plastic bags of Red Bull, sodas, and some American-ish chips—none of them were sure, because the names were all in Arabic—as they knocked on the door to Nancy and Ned's suite. Frank keyed into the business suite across the hall, not all that eager to see Ned and Nancy sucking face again. He made a mental note to call Callie as soon as he got off the phone.

Frank explained the situation in broad strokes to the Gray Man, filling in the pertinent details after. "Kimball, or whatever his real name is, is tall—maybe an inch or so taller than me, forty or so, with silvering dark hair, cool eyes, and a triangular scar on his right cheek."

"The scar sounds promising," the Gray Man answered. "No helpful anchor tattoos or anything?"

"Not that I saw," Frank sighed, aware that the older man was teasing him but too tired to respond in kind.

"Well, I'll run it through the database and see what pops. Frank, you do realize that once Kimball knows the bomb didn't make it across with you that he'll just find another one."

"I'm kind of confused about why he would have gone to all this trouble to take one over in the first place," Frank admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. Strike his earlier list; Red Bull, _then_ call Callie. "I mean, I'm sure the materials he was able to find in the U.S. were probably more dependable."

"And he might be unfamiliar with the area," the Gray Man pointed out.

"But why Cairo? And why have us impersonate the Addisons? He had to have gone to a lot of trouble," Frank went on. "Full wardrobes for four people? New cell phones? Credit cards and spending money?"

"No one ever said mass-murdering psychopaths are logical," the Gray Man said with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. "I'm glad you managed to make it through the interrogation at the airport without any lasting damage, though."

Frank shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yep," he said, and it was only barely a lie. "Anyway, please see what you can find on your end. We have internet access but apparently it's kind of unreliable at this end of the world."

"I'll call you back as soon as I have anything," the Gray Man promised, and Frank hung up the phone with a sigh.

Dragging himself off the couch and across the hall seemed like an insurmountable task. Only the sweet, sweet promise of a semi-chilled Red Bull managed to stir him.

Bess, Joe, and George were all on the couch in front of the television set in Nancy and Ned's room. Bess had one hand in a bag of chips; the remote was in the other. Joe had his arm around Bess's shoulders. George had a Diet Coke in one hand, and was utterly engrossed in whatever she saw on her laptop screen. "God, MTV sucks _even more_ over here," Bess declared, and threw the remote down once she landed on the local news broadcast.

"Where's Nancy and Ned," Frank said, dreading the answer, as he popped the tab on a Red Bull and chugged half of it.

The trio shot him a solid stare from the couch. "Guess," George said dryly, before her attention returned to the laptop. "Fuck, are _all_ the social networks loading like snails...?" she muttered to herself.

Bess glanced over at her cousin. "Expecting a message from Jon?" she said with wicked sweetness.

George kept her gaze trained on the screen as she replied, "Do you really want me to take off this fucking stiletto and throw it at you?"

"Someone should go get Nancy and..." Frank began, and immediately Joe, Bess, and George's index fingers flew to touch the sides of their noses in the universal "not-it" gesture. "Fuck," Frank sighed, shooting them the finger as he walked toward the bedroom, practically stomping his feet to announce his presence and possibly prevent a repeat of the earlier sight.

In an effort to keep them all awake, Frank suggested a trip out to Giza to see the pyramids and the Sphinx. Halfway there, the Red Bull had kicked in, and all of them, save George who was still sipping her Diet Coke, were jittery with bottled energy.

"I am _so glad_ we're staying," Bess announced, her eyes bright. "The pyramids! This is going to be _amazing_."

George cast an amused glance at her cousin. "Bipolar much?" she asked, ducking the glare that was Bess's response.

Once they had arrived at the site, it was easy enough to corral them into taking the last tour of the day. A prim Englishwoman led the group, but Frank soon realized that her fluttering voice might be the purest antidote to Red Bull in existence. He glanced around. Joe had his arm slung casually across Bess's shoulders, although he was casting a very interested gaze at the group of twentysomething tourists standing between them and the Sphinx. Actually, Bess was too, Frank realized. Then she shot a hypocritically affronted glance at Joe and elbowed him in the ribs. Frank smirked.

Nancy and Ned were standing closer to the guide and actually paying attention. They had changed into some pieces from their Addison wardrobe. Ned looked cool and comfortable in his summerweight suit; Nancy wore a close-fitting green top and a long white skirt, and Frank was momentarily disappointed that it hid the sight of her shapely legs. Nancy and Ned's hands were joined, and somehow that was more intimate than the arm Joe had slung across Bess's shoulders.

Frank remembered with a twinge that he hadn't yet called Callie. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her number from memory.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Callie," Frank said, smiling when he heard her voice. No matter how he occasionally felt about Nancy, just listening to Callie reminded him how foolish he was being. Nancy was definitely serious with Ned, and Frank had been with Callie for years. Their relationship was far more important than any small spark he felt with Nancy Drew.

"How is Egypt?"

"Hot," Frank admitted. "We're all jetlagged as shit. And I miss you."

"I miss you too," Callie said softly, and he could just imagine her soft blonde hair, her finger twisting idly in the phone cord. "When you get back to Bayport, how about we have a little Thanksgiving celebration all to ourselves?"

"Mmm," Frank agreed. "With cranberry sauce and everything?"

"You sound like Joe," Callie teased him. "I was thinking more like... an early Christmas present. That you could unwrap."

"Tell me more," Frank said, by then entirely ignoring the tour guide. He was fully engrossed in the soft spell of Callie's voice when he felt a tug at his sleeve.

He turned and saw his brother, and held up a finger. "God, that sounds _perfect_," he told his girlfriend. "Look, we're at Giza right now. Let me get you a little souvenir. I think that'd only be fair."

"The only souvenir I want is to have you home safe and sound," Callie told him. "But if you must, one of those hieroglyph necklaces would be pretty neat."

After exchanging kisses with Callie, which provoked an eyeroll from Joe, Frank hung up the phone. "Okay, Captain Cockblock," Frank sighed.

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Really. _Really._ Uh, you have that title for the rest of your life, remember? Even into any other lives we might live."

Frank twirled his hand in a get-to-the-point gesture.

"Nikki told me she saw some creepy guy watching us."

"Where?"

"Well, I'd show you, but I'm sure he's gone now," Joe pointed out, then made kissy faces at his brother until Frank flipped him off.

In the gift shop Bess, still high on Red Bull, cooed and squealed over the pashminas and finely wrought jewelry. Frank found a hieroglyph necklace that spelled out _love_, and paid for it with Kimball's spending money, gloating a little. He didn't even feel a momentary bitterness when he looked over and saw Nancy and Ned laughing over the postcards display, just a wish that he had somehow managed to get Callie to come along.

"Okay, dinner," Bess announced, when they were back in the van heading to the hotel. "If I don't eat I'm going to crash."

"Eat, then crash," George said, sporting a ridiculous cap featuring a three-dimensional miniature of the Sphinx.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Joe asked. "More sightseeing?"

"We should probably plan a lot of sightseeing," Nancy joined in, her fingers interlaced with Ned's. "We'll probably only get to do half of it."

Ned snorted. "So optimistic," he teased her.

On their way in to the hotel, Frank cast his gaze out over the Nile. It really was gorgeous. From beside him he heard the click of a digital camera's shutter, and turned to see Nancy taking a snapshot.

"We really should get a photo all together," she said, and called the others back. She talked the bellhop into taking a picture of the six of them standing in front of the brilliant sunset, and then Bess insisted on getting one with her camera. By the time they made it inside, the sky was more purple than gold.

At their room, Nancy slipped the keycard in the electric lock, then frowned when no green light flashed at her. "The hell," she muttered, swiping it again.

"Just go in through ours," Bess advised, swiping her key in her own door. "We can call the front desk."

When they entered Bess and Joe's suite, however, Frank was half expecting the sight: suitcases were open, their contents strewn all over the room. Bed linens and pillows were in a tumble on the floor. The closet and bedroom doors stood open, and the dresser drawers, empty, were stacked haphazardly on the carpet.

The six of them looked at each other in dismay.

"Kimball," Frank announced grimly. "Looking for his bomb."

"Which he obviously didn't find," Bess said, her voice a little tremulous. She wrapped her arms around her waist, and Joe put his arm around her. "Great. So now what'll he do?"

"Good question," Frank answered grimly.


	4. Chapter 4

Nancy walked through the door connecting their suites and groaned. "Ahh, fuck. I'm gonna need ten more Red Bulls to deal with this."

"Check and see if anything's missing," Frank advised. "And I'd better check the other room."

Ned walked through after her, only half-hearing Joe's comforting murmurs to Bess, and gazed at his girlfriend. Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a loud sigh, then shook her head a little. She was stopping her internal pity party. With a groan she started to gather their strewn clothes and dump them on the couch. Ned slotted the tumbled-out dresser drawers back in, and gathered up a few couch cushions.

"I'm running on fumes," Nancy admitted, quietly, to him. "_God._ I wonder what that jackass is planning."

Ned shrugged, coming up behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and began to knead them, and Nancy collapsed to the half-reassembled couch with a little moan. "It's okay," he said softly, as she melted under his touch. "We'll find him and stop him. We always do. We'll get a good night's sleep tonight and wake up bright and refreshed in the morning."

He slowed, then stopped, the impromptu massage, and with a little sigh Nancy sat up straight, then glanced over her shoulder at him. "Thanks," she said, a small smile on her face. "You're pretty awesome, Nickerson."

"Sure am," he said, in mock conceit.

"I just can't really imagine sleeping that well with a busted lock on the door."

"Even with me here to protect you?" Ned asked with a wink. "Let me go down to the front desk and take care of it."

On the way out, Ned checked the other rooms. Joe and Bess reported that nothing was missing, although whoever had gone through their belongings had been very thorough. Frank was running a diagnostic on the laptops to make sure no spyware had been planted, but he reported that the cache of spending money he'd stashed in a drawer under one of his shirts was still where he had left it.

"Any booby traps?"

George shuddered. "I sure as fuck hope not. For _his_ sake. I've got some new judo moves I am just _dying_ to try out. You hear that, invisible newly-planted bugs?" she asked, raising her voice.

"I'm gonna head down to the desk and get them to replace our lock," Ned said, taking a step back to let the door drift closed.

Frank glanced over his shoulder, and Ned stopped the door with his foot. "Don't tell them it was a break-in," Frank advised. "We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves."

"Sure." Ned left them with a weary smile and took the elevator down to the front desk. A different clerk stood there; he sported a full beard.

"Hi," Ned said in greeting. "Uh, my keycard isn't working."

The clerk began to tap on the terminal keyboard. "Your name?"

"Cole Addison."

Just as Ned had been pretty sure he'd do, the clerk pulled out a fresh keycard and ran it through the magnetic code machine. "Here you are," he said, handing over the keys. He flashed a small close-lipped smile.

"Yeah," Ned said slowly, tapping the card against the polished surface of the front desk. "So... if I think that maybe... well, I was carrying my new wife over the threshold and, well, her heel got caught, and just maybe... maybe that happened to break it? I'll pay for it," he rushed to add.

The clerk sighed. "Try the new card," he advised. "If it does not work, call and I will have the maintenance supervisor to your room within the hour."

"Thanks!" Ned shot him a toothy grin, then headed back to the elevator.

Nancy had their clothes sorted into stacks when Ned came through the adjoining door and back into their room. "Anything missing?"

"Shit," Nancy said, and took a slug from a can of Red Bull. "You know, I really don't think so. I think he just freaked out when he realized the bomb wasn't here and then trashed the place looking for it, in case we'd kept it. Which, stupidest idea ever." She sighed.

From the other room, through the open connecting door, Bess's voice clearly carried. "Yeah, and all it takes is a damn _sledgehammer_ and some psycho _nutjob_ who bought me fucking _lingerie_ can be in here tonight while we're asleep?"

Ned saw Nancy shrug. Bess did have a point.

"We need to get the hell out of here. Turn this over to the authorities and just go home."

"That'd be easier if we knew who we were dealing with," Joe was pointing out as Nancy and Ned walked into Bess and Joe's suite. "Maybe if the Gray Man has some tips, we can just finish this up tomorrow and then head home. But what do we have, really? We have Frank who barely got out by the skin of his teeth trying to explain how he had a fucking _bomb_ in his luggage. And ransacked rooms. And fake identities given to us by a guy who, well, whatever else he does, it's probably _not_ with the State Department."

"So we have jack shit," Nancy agreed, arms crossed, leaning against the wall between their suites.

Joe nodded. "And I'm a light sleeper. If anyone tries to come in—"

Nancy and Ned exchanged a look. So Joe _was_ planning on sleeping in the room with Bess, Ned mused.

"I mean, if I'm in here," Joe said hastily, glancing over at Nancy and Ned.

Bess snorted. "Uh, hello? I was sitting next to you on the plane. A fucking _tornado_ could have taken us to Oz and you would have still been snoring your ass off."

Joe threw his hands up in the air as Frank and George came into their room. "Okay," Frank reported. "No spyware. I think he genuinely doesn't care about what we do while we're here. Guess he's pretty confident."

"Ya think?" Bess flopped onto the couch, her brows drawn together. She cast a pleading look at Nancy and George. "Do you guys actually feel safe here?"

Nancy glanced over at Ned. "I'll feel better once the door's fixed," she admitted.

"And they know exactly how to break it again," Bess pointed out darkly, then glanced at her cousin.

George shrugged. "We've been in worse situations," she pointed out.

Bess let out a sound of extreme disgust and threw her hands in the air. "You guys are _impossible_," she said, and stalked back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Joe glanced behind her, then at Nancy, who motioned that he should just let her cool off. "Any word yet?" Nancy asked Frank.

"Not yet, and we need some dinner anyway. We can see who the front desk recommends." Frank sat down on the recently vacated couch. "Do any of you share Bess's... concerns?" he asked quietly.

The other four glanced around at each other, then slowly shook their heads. "We're already here," Nancy pointed out. "We know what this guy looks like, and the guy who's probably working with him. I mean, if we were talking about taking down an entire terrorist cell, I'd... well, that might be too much, but this is just one nutjob."

"With deep pockets," Joe pointed out. "He might have resources we don't know about. And he might _be_ connected to a terrorist organization; we don't know."

Ned shook his head. "We can only do what we can do. So let's get ready for dinner, and sleep on it. It'll all look better in the morning."

Frank and George nodded and returned to their room. Joe glanced worriedly at the still-closed bedroom door.

"I'll go talk to her," Nancy said, and glanced at Ned.

Ned went back to their room, gathered up the clothes, and began sorting them into drawers. All his clothes went into the same drawer, although he did take the time to hang up the suits. Then he started on Nancy's clothes, sorting them into underwear, shirts, and bottoms. A few of the tops looked so thin they were probably slips, but he wasn't sure. He shrugged and tossed them into the underwear drawer.

Then he sorted through the lingerie, pausing to study the occasional piece and imagine how it would look on Nancy. He scrutinized the flimsy silk, making sure there was no sign that Kimball had broken in for an entirely different reason, but found no suspicious marks. Once that was done, he reassembled the couches, shoved the minibar back into its corner, and closed the safe.

A knock sounded at the door. "Addison?" the janitor asked, when Ned answered it.

Ned nodded, stepping aside so the man could come inside. He scrutinized the lock carefully, made a few experimental swipes with the keycard, then shook his head.

"Replace lock. Must use drill."

"Fine," Ned nodded.

"Few minutes."

Nancy walked back through the connecting doors. She had been massaging her temples and rubbing the bridge of her nose so much that her makeup had turned into streaks on her face. Her eyes widened a little in surprise when she saw the jumpsuited man kneeling at their door. "Thank you," she told him in Arabic, and he flashed a grin.

"How's she doing?"

Nancy shot a glance at the janitor, then beckoned Ned to follow her into their bedroom. "She's... mostly okay, but she was really shaken up. I told her we'd all sleep on it and talk in the morning. I think that worked."

"Let's do dinner in an hour," Joe called through the connecting door. "I mean, if you guys can stop making out long enough to actually _eat._"

Nancy shot Ned a half-smile. "Sounds good," Nancy called back.

At their door, the janitor rose to his feet and swiped another card in the lock. He made a face, then closed the door. A second later he was opening it again.

"Good again," he pronounced, handing Ned the new keys.

"Thank you very much," Ned told him in Arabic, pressing a bill into his hand before he gave the couple a bow and departed.

Nancy looked down at her shirt and pulled it away from her body, making a face. "I feel nasty," she said. "Ugh. A shower would be _so good_ right now."

Ned tapped his chin. "Huh. Well, an hour? That's a tight schedule. Guess we'll just have to take one together."

Nancy gathered her hair in a fist, flipped the temporary ponytail a few times, then released it and let her hair fall down her back in messy red-gold waves, and Ned's mouth went dry. "Yeah, and if you don't keep your hands to yourself, I'm _sure_ we won't be ready in time."

"I am a perfect gentleman," Ned objected, clasping his hands behind his back.

And for at least a few minutes he was, if gentlemen were supposed to get in the shower with their girlfriends. The bathroom was done in sand-colored tile with an oversized walk-in shower, and Ned had to admit to himself that he really liked seeing her like this. His apartment bathroom was small and cramped and the few times they had taken a shower together in it, any fooling around had been derailed by slipping around on the slick curved edges. But there were no slick edges here.

Nancy finished rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and moved out of the spray, and Ned moved under it, turning to watch her. She picked up the loofah and body wash.

"Come here."

Nancy raised her eyebrows. "We have a schedule," she reminded him.

"Babe, have you _ever_ been worried about me taking too long," Ned teased her.

She rolled her eyes at him and put some of the body wash on the loofah, then handed it over. "Make it snappy," she said.

He had her turn around and started with her back, down her legs. He rubbed the loofah until it built a lather and stroked it down her sides. He ran it down her arms, then stepped in close to her, her back against his front, and watched over her shoulder as he traced it over her.

Nancy tilted her head back onto his other shoulder and let out a soft sigh. "Quick," she told him.

"You want to?"

He traced the loofah down her stomach, and watched her quiver. "We shouldn't," she murmured, with that little waver in her voice that meant he could easily persuade her otherwise.

He sat down on the seat in the corner of the shower and ran the loofah down her legs, then looked up to see her gazing down at him. Slowly he ran one fingertip up her leg, and her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes thick and wet.

Ned sighed and led her back under the spray. "How about we wait," he said.

"I don't know, maybe because I'll be dead from exhaustion in about thirty minutes?" she asked, rinsing the suds off her limbs. "But, on the off chance I'm not..."

He kissed the point of her shoulder. "Well, it is kind of our wedding night, after all," he reminded her, and loved the way her eyes darkened with desire in response.

* * *

><p>Frank's phone rang. He scrambled out of the bathroom barechested, hair askew, neatly avoiding a nasty spill thanks to the coffee table, in his haste to answer it. George snorted quietly from the conference table, which was set up rather to look like they were perpetually playing a game of Battleship on their laptops. "Smooth, Hardy."<p>

Frank flipped her off as he hit the answer button. "Hello?"

"Secure?" the Gray Man asked.

"As secure as I can be."

"Okay. First off, the only organization I found with a name even remotely like 'Hajji' hasn't been active since before you were born. If he _is_ with some new organization, that's not it. I had a tech run a chatter search and that didn't come up, so I think he just fed you something that sounded good."

"Okay." Frank walked back to the bathroom and picked up his toothbrush again.

"Second. I found seven guys who meet this guy's general description. I'll send mugs to your secure email. Three of them are _really_ bad news, and I might see if I can send in some reinforcements if any of those are him. Actually, given how unstable the situation is over there, I can't imagine that a politically-motivated explosion will do any good _whatsoever_, so I might ask you guys to hold down the fort until I can get some help on the ground."

"Great. Hang on." Frank leaned out of the bathroom, to see George stabbing her laptop's keyboard with an index finger, a dark scowl on her face. "Hey, George, is the network up?"

She glanced up. "Yeah, I like to pulverize keyboards for the fuck of it. No, it— Oh, hang on, hang on— _shit motherfucking cache version_—"

"Sorry. Okay, I'll check as soon as we get back to the hotel after dinner," Frank told the Gray Man. "Thanks for checking."

"Yes, I do so dearly enjoy using government resources for you and Joe's wild goose chases," he dryly replied. "Frank, your intuition is usually pretty good. What made you trust this guy?"

Frank rinsed his mouth out. "He gave me a good reference," Frank defended himself. "Joseph Peters. When I called his office to check, though, Peters was out of the country and unreachable."

"Well, I doubt we'd have the good luck for Peters to be some kind of connection, but it's very convenient—too convenient, to be a coincidence. So Kimball knew he would be away. Which means _Kimball's_ got a pretty high-up connection."

"Could be," Frank agreed neutrally, going through the ties he had packed for the trip.

"Were there any regional verbal tics, any slips to indicate that he might actually be from Egypt? Or any particularly North American pattern?"

Frank screwed his face up, thinking back. "I have the impression that he's American," he replied. "He didn't have any mannerisms, verbal or otherwise, to make me think he wasn't."

"Anyone you and Joe put away just get out?"

Frank chuckled. "Not that I'm aware of."

"It just seems odd that he'd use you two to get a bomb out of the country. Why not just hire a couple broke college kids to be ringers?"

"Maybe because we're used to cover identities," Frank mused. "He had to get us in without anything suspicious happening, and he _almost_ got away with it. Kimball gave the bag to George—"

"I'm sorry, _who_?"

Frank explained that Nancy, Bess, George, and Ned were in their group. "George would've just opened that, thought it was some sort of computer equipment, and forgotten it. It wasn't like one of those cartoon huge-readout countdown timer bombs; it was in component parts. But exactly the kind of thing that would freak out a TSA agent."

"And he _almost_ got away with it."

"It was the second security check at the gate. And we can't be traced back to him; once they took me in the back room I didn't even try saying 'Some creep with a scar on his cheek bribed me to take this through security.' I'd still be in an underground cell somewhere." Frank shuddered.

The Gray Man sighed. "I still don't like this, not even remotely," he said. "_And_ there are civilians in danger, too. Maybe this Kimball character has a vendetta against one of them."

"If any of the mugs are him, I'll check with Nancy," Frank promised. "Okay. As soon as we get back I'll check them out, and maybe once we figure out who he _really_ is, we can figure out his next move."

"And if we're still in the dark..." The Gray Man clucked his tongue. "Kidnapping tourists is still a booming business. Any of these civilians loaded?"

Frank raised an eyebrow when he thought of Carson Drew. "Well, Nancy's dad would move heaven and earth to get her back."

"Then I'd keep an eye on her, if I were you," the Gray Man advised.

* * *

><p>"Do I look okay?" Bess looked down at her ensemble. She wore a form-fitting turquoise bandage dress that brought out the blue in her eyes and her engagement ring, along with strappy four-inch sandals. Joe looked a little wary at her sudden additional height.<p>

"You look fantastic," Joe reassured her. "Got a hot date tonight?"

She smacked him lightly. "Uh, with _you_?" she replied, flashing her wedding ring. "Now, tomorrow we can totally do some web recon and find out if any reality stars are in Cairo, and sneak into some paparazzi shots."

"Exactly what I love to do on vacation," Joe said, rolling his eyes. "Well, unless said reality star is hot."

Bess eyed him critically. "They probably wouldn't turn down making a sex tape with you."

Joe almost choked. "Given that people make sex tapes with _anything_—"

Bess waved her hand in dismissal. "Game face," she told him, her hand on the doorknob of their room, and took a long breath. "Okay. Nikki and Cooper Addison."

"You mean Cooper and Nikki—"

"I'm sorry, I forgot about your _thrilling_ escapades on chess boards across the greater Manhattan area."

"I've got no problem _engaging_ in some escapades on chess boards. As long as there are no game pieces nearby."

Bess rolled her eyes at him, then gasped. "Ahh, shit. Hang on." She went back into the bedroom and came back with a small sparkling purse and her digital camera. "Okay. Fantastic?" She popped her hip, striking a quasi-seductive pose.

"Definitely," Joe said, opening the door for her.

Nancy wore a short gold backless halter gown, and Ned's hand lingered at the small of her back as he escorted her out into the corridor. He looked really fucking hot in his charcoal suit and crisp shirt, Bess had to admit in the privacy of her own head. George, still observing her cover identity, had dressed a little more casually in a sleveless ruffled top, and her pencil skirt was slit pretty daringly in the back.

The girls gave each other silent approval on their ensemble choices. "We have _got_ to hit up the club while we're here," Bess declared, linking her arm through Joe's. "It would be a damn shame to waste these wardrobes on some hole-in-the-wall tourist traps."

Frank stopped at the desk and asked for recommendations for dinner, and returned to the group with scribbled directions to Cafe Isis. "And may I call a limousene for you?" the clerk called after Frank.

Bess, who was rubbing her stomach, perked up at the sound of that. "Oh yes please," she called back before he could. "What?" she asked, when Nancy and George turned to look at her. "I look _great_ in this dress and we can't all fit in one cab anyway."

Once they were in the limo, Nancy turned to Frank. "Any leads yet?"

"My source came up with some possibilities for his real identity," Frank murmured back. "We'll check them out when we get back."

"_If_ the network is back up," George sighed. "With God as my witness, I will never take DSL for granted again."

Bess gazed out the tinted window at the lights of the city. Beside her, she felt Joe reach for her hand, and she shot him a small smile.

"Feeling any better, Nikki?"

She tilted her head. "You want to make me feel better?" she asked, pitching her voice low and sultry.

"Definitely," he replied, his thumb stroking down her palm.

"Let's split a bottle of wine tonight," she said, and tossed her hair. "I think that would _definitely_ make me feel better."

The limo driver made arrangements to pick them up, then let them out in front of the small, cozy restaurant. Huge plate-glass windows looked out on the street, and palm trees festooned in tiny white lights stood on the sidewalk in front. As soon as they walked in, Ned gave his assumed name to the maître d' and they were whisked to a large table, covered in a snow-white tablecloth.

Bess was relieved that the menu sported English translations under the Arabic script, but was horrified at some of the entrée choices. "Stuffed _pigeon_?" she hissed in her cousin and Nancy's direction.

"That's, like, the national dish of Egypt," Joe said, leaning over.

She wrinkled her noise. "Yogurt pudding, stuffed grape leaves... hmm. You know, I never thought I'd say this, but damn, I wish I saw 'chicken nuggets' on this."

"Nikki would be all over the _Kersha_," Frank teased her, and when Bess read the description, she couldn't stop herself from cringing. _Sheep gelatin_?

"Well, as Nikki, I can definitely tell you that _I_ am _not_ all over that," she said. Her stomach growled again as she frowned down at the menu. At this rate, she really _would_ lose that last five pounds on this trip, if only because she couldn't imagine eating anything she had seen so far.

George sighed and leaned over, tapping an item on Bess's menu. "Try this."

_Macaroni Béchamel_. Bess read the description and shrugged. "Awesome," she said, snapping her menu shut and reaching for the wine menu. Almost immediately a slender woman with gorgeous skin and heavily-lined eyes moved to their table and introduced herself as the sommelier.

"I believe the lady and I would like a nice red tonight," Joe said, gently touching Bess's arm. "Yes, darling?"

"_Definitely_," Bess agreed.

Nancy, who was feeling adventurous, ordered the house specialty: rabbit _molokheyyah_. Frank, Joe, and George ordered the _mahshi hamam_, the stuffed pigeon dish that had so horrified Bess. Ned selected the _Mahshi waraa enab,_ stuffed grape leaves, and asked for the sommelier's recommendation for a nice white wine.

Halfway through their meal, Frank and George were the only members of their party who weren't at least a little drunk. Joe and Bess had already killed their Château Lynch-Bages and ordered another, and Nancy and Ned were nearly finished with their Matthias Roblin Sancerre.

"You sure you don't want to try a bite?" Nancy asked Bess, sweeping up another forkful of her entrée.

"I... don't know," Bess said, and giggled. Her Red Bull crash had been pretty horrific, the jetlag was a fucking bitch, and the wine was going straight to her head. Bess was finding it hard to even form coherent sentences. "Ahh, hell, why not."

Nancy pushed her plate closer to Bess, shooting her friend a grin. "We're newlyweds," she said with a wink. "Definitely time to try something new."

Bess didn't miss the expression that suddenly came into Ned's eyes. Or the one that came into Nancy's as she gazed at a spot over Bess's shoulder, although it was honestly getting a little hard to focus on any one thing.

"Frank," Nancy said urgently.

Distantly Bess knew she shouldn't, but she had to follow Nancy's wide-eyed gaze through the plate-glass window behind her.

Across the street, under a streetlight, two men were talking. Soon everyone at the table was looking at them. Bess squinted. One of them looked a little like the creepy guy she had seen at the Sphinx earlier, and...

Frank threw his napkin down and pushed his chair back. "Kimball," he hissed.


	5. Chapter 5

George took one last sip of her water and stood up just after Frank did. She took a quick survey of the table. Bess was blitzed, Joe wasn't too far behind but he was still relatively sober, Nancy was pushing her chair back but still looked like she might pass out given half a chance, and Ned looked okay. George was glad that she had opted for the lowest heels Bess had allowed her and followed as Frank headed out of the restaurant.

She had been _itching_ for some exercise, _some_ kind of activity, all day long. Following Frank was sure to give her an opportunity.

They were barely through the door when Joe caught up with them. "Okay, we gonna play this cool or what?"

"Think maybe he doesn't know that it didn't make it through security?"

George kept an eye on the duo. Apparently they hadn't noticed that they were being watched; they kept in the same position.

"You mean we could get some ransom for the bomb we no longer have?"

"No, dumbass. We don't have it anymore and that sounds like it would end in World War III."

Joe made a face at his brother. "Seriously, though. We just walk up to him and say 'Hey, we need to have a chat'?"

Frank shrugged. "What I _really_ need to do is get some cuffs on that son of a bitch."

A couple in traditional dress passed within earshot and jerked back compulsively on hearing Frank's words. "Sorry," he muttered, and repeated his apology in Arabic.

"Let's just play it by ear," Joe said, fidgeting. "We gotta get across the street."

They were halfway across when Kimball's chin jerked in their direction, and he and the guy they had seen at the airport headed off, walking briskly. "That answers that question," Joe muttered.

The street they disappeared down was strung with colored lanterns. Temporary wooden stalls boasted handmade purses and wallets, dozens of sparkling silver and gold strands of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, piping-hot kebabs and dolma. "So why would they be spying on us?" George asked over her shoulder.

"Who knows?" Joe asked. "Maybe hoping we'll lead them to the... thing," he said, glancing around at the crowd around him, reluctant to say "bomb." "Or maybe they were thinking about having a nice quiet dinner at Cafe Isis."

Frank made an irritated sound. "Should have told Ned to keep an eye on Nancy," he muttered.

George glanced over at him. "Uh, Frank? You never actually have to _tell_ him that. He's been doing it for quite a few years on his own."

"Still."

"Something you're not saying?" Joe asked.

Frank shrugged. "Don't know what they want yet," he explained. "I mean, the whole _reason_ we're over here is to thwart a kidnapping plot."

"You mean that's the excuse Kimball gave us to get us over here," Joe corrected him. "Seriously, where the fuck are these guys?"

George put on an extra burst of speed and maneuvered around a chattering group of men in traditional robes. She had passed a few stalls selling headscarves; if _she_ were trying to elude pursuers...

She glanced down a side alley and saw Kimball in a newly shoplifted headscarf, glancing over his shoulder, checking to make sure they weren't followed. "Hey," George called quietly, beckoning Frank and Joe to follow her. She saw Kimball jam the heel of his hand into a silver box next to an ornate door, then shoulder his way inside, the creepy guy right behind him.

The building had several floors, and Joe repeated the movement they had seen, jamming the heel of his hand against the buzzer. The door clicked and Joe jerked the door open quickly.

"Okay," George said. "Go inside and call me if you find them. I'm going to see if there's a back entrance."

Joe was already halfway up the steps. "You sure you can handle it?" Frank asked worriedly.

"_Yes_," George hissed, exasperated. "Go on."

Frank gave her a curt nod and followed his brother. As she headed for a narrow alley a few hundred feet away, George pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned it on, then navigated to Frank's name in her address book, in case she needed to call him quickly.

The air felt thick and humid; they had to be closer to the Nile here. George squinted in the darkness, concentrating on walking properly on her heels. The pavement in the alley was uneven and rocky, and she almost slipped a few times. Halfway down she walked by two men in Western dress who looked more than a little interested in her, and George wished she had just opted for her jeans instead of a girly pencil skirt. Ignoring them, she headed around a sharp turn, noticing with some disappointment that the turn was taking her further from the path she wanted to take.

George was practically running when she finally found the other end of the alley and hooked around. The streetlights were sparse here, and they seemed to be in a business district. Many of the storefronts were shuttered and closed for the evening. The windows of a large elaborate mosque were lit, though, and she saw a pair of men who could have been Kimball and his companion crossing the street.

In dismay, George glanced down at her outfit. She had a vague recollection from her religious studies class in college that she wouldn't be allowed to enter the mosque: her outfit was nowhere near as modest as it would need to be. Frowning, she ran across the street in pursuit, trying to make sure one of the men was in fact Kimball.

One glance back over his shoulder confirmed her suspicion, and George pressed the _Send_ button on her phone.

Frank answered, out of breath. "Spot them?"

"Just headed into a mosque," George confirmed. "And there's no way I'll be allowed inside, but I'm sure it's just to duck us."

"We'll be right there."

George ended the call and began to scout the perimeter of the mosque, hoping to catch them sneaking out.

* * *

><p>As soon as Joe vanished behind George and Frank, Bess reached for her purse. "Ooooh!"<p>

Nancy looked at her friend with some amusement. She had started to leave at the same time Joe did, but the wine had left her flushed and giggly, and she didn't know the city at night—or daylight, to come to think of it—and, while she had wanted to look great for Ned, she hadn't really considered how very conspicuous a glittering gold dress was going to be for following a suspect. Mostly because she hadn't expected to _need_ to follow a suspect.

And her bones felt—fizzy. _Damn_, the wine was good.

Bess fumbled around in her purse, emerging with a triumphant "Ha!" and her camera. She impatiently turned it on, twisted so she could point it across the street at Kimball and his associate, then began fumbling with the zoom setting.

"You actually think that's gonna pick up anything?" Ned asked skeptically.

Bess snapped off a shot. "Uh, I bought this for _concerts_," Bess returned. "It's supposed to be awesome in low light and with the zoom. And... ahh shit, it looks blurry," she said, frowning at the view in the small screen.

"Here," Ned said, reaching for the camera. He managed to snap off a few shots before Kimball and the other man took off, Frank, Joe, and George in hot pursuit.

Their waitress approached with the bottle of wine Joe had ordered before his departure. "Oh, miss," she said, looking around at the empty chairs. "Your husband...?"

Bess blinked hard. "Um—"

Ned came to the rescue. "My brother thought he saw someone he knew," he said, "and our assistants had to make a few phone calls. But we'll be glad to open that wine for him."

Nancy glanced over at him. "Please tell me where you found all this energy," she said.

Ned leaned in, taking her hand. His lips brushed her ear. "Just thinking about what we put off earlier," he said softly, and she shivered. The waiter left with a small smile, after looking at them.

Bess picked up her newly refilled glass of wine. "That rabbit stuff wasn't so bad," she said, glancing over at Nancy's plate. "Also, if you guys go to the bathroom at the same time, I am going to _throw up_ everywhere."

* * *

><p>The service at the mosque was over, and Kimball and his associate hadn't snuck out during, as far as Joe could tell. He was waiting with his brother at the front entrance. George had spotted one at the side and was watching that one.<p>

"What if there's another entrance," Joe murmured, and Frank sighed.

"Well, then, we're fucked."

The doors opened and a mass of men in traditional dress began moving out of the mosque. Together Joe and Frank scanned the faces as well as they could in the dim light. Then Joe glanced over at George, who had jerked to attention and was moving cautiously across the street.

"I think George spotted them."

Frank surreptitiously pointed. "Them."

The three of them converged on the two men as unobtrusively as they could. When Joe was ten feet away, he overheard a muttered name, "Mahfouz."

Then Kimball looked up and saw them.

The two men exchanged a glance and immediately set off in opposite directions.

"Shit," Joe hissed.

"I'll go after him," George said quickly, and set off in pursuit of the apparent Mahfouz. Frank set off at a dead run after Kimball. Joe glanced between them. Frank could handle himself, but Kimball was their main target, and Joe had a feeling Frank would need all the help he could get.

Kimball shoved his way through the crowd, and the brothers followed in his wake. Adrenaline was burning off his buzz from the wine, and Joe caught up to Frank quickly. As Kimball dodged into a crowd, in wordless unison the brothers split off, circling to make sure they caught him in any attempt to elude.

In the meantime, George was ready to wrench her heels off and throw them at anyone, her cousin in particular, but Mahfouz specifically. His height and general creepiness made him stand out in a crowd, but George was busy coming up with potential fighting strategies. She knew she was going to catch up with him, and she also had a feeling he would in no way go quietly.

But, she thought wildly, putting on a burst of speed to swing around three shopping-bag-swinging blonde tourists, what would she do when she caught up to him? Accuse him of some crime and have him taken into custody? Her passport was still at the front desk of the hotel and he would doubtless come up with some alibi. Keep him subdued and call the cavalry? Maybe, _maybe_ Ned was sober enough to find a cab and bundle Mahfouz into it, if she managed to keep him under control that long, but then what? Turn her and Frank's suite into some sort of interrogation chamber?

Ugh. George _hated_ thinking about all of it. When it was just the four of them, her and Bess and Nancy and Ned, it was all punch and kick and ask questions later, and/or when the chloroform wore off. Pursuing a thug in a foreign country when she didn't know the language was just slightly out of her depth.

Mahfouz had the bad luck to stumble into a narrow alley, and George caught up with him long enough to grab his arm. If she could use her heels to some small advantage, maybe if they fought long enough for some passers-by to see them, the cops would get called and they would take care of it. Find some suspicious tattoo or watch him react to some weird code word, call in national security, boom, vacation back on.

Mahfouz swung around and George chuckled. Yeah. Any vacation with Nancy Drew was _destined_ to become fistfights in back alleys. And, she had to admit, that was part of the fun of it.

George didn't bother with the usual "you'll never get away with it," just settled into her basic stance, watching carefully to see what he would do.

Mahfouz took a swipe at her and George ducked out of the way, taking a half-step back. He telegraphed his next punch and George grabbed his fist, using his momentum to send him off-balance. He only stumbled a step, but that was enough for her. She brought a knee up to drive it into his solar plexus, and then he grabbed her knee and she teetered just a little on her other heel.

George smiled to herself grimly as she used his arm to regain her balance, her other hand coming up, driving the heel of her palm toward his chin.

Finally. Some real _action_.

Joe and Frank were working hard to keep Kimball in their sights, but he was quick. Once, Frank got so close that he was actually able to brush the man's shirt with his fingertips, but Kimball took advantage of a slow-moving couple and Frank had to avoid crashing into them, apologizing profusely as Joe raced to keep up with the impostor agent.

Only the thought of a bomb planted somewhere nearby, soon, kept Joe moving as fast as he was. The spill from a nightclub attracted their attention; drunk couples, their laughter too loud, crowded the sidewalk, as a line waited behind a velvet rope, all of them tourists.

Kimball made a beeline inside. The bouncer shouted an angry "Hey!" after him.

Joe and Frank exchanged a glance, taking advantage of the pause to catch their breath. "Back entrance?" Joe asked.

Frank nodded. "I'll get security and tell them he stole my girlfriend's purse."

Joe was almost shaking with adrenaline as he circled around the club, finding a good vantage point. The parking lot behind the club was small and crowded with gleaming top-of-the-line late model cars. Joe cast a brief admiring glance at a sleek Bentley.

Then the rear door of the club slammed open, and the fire alarm went off. Kimball, his hair in some disarray, his forehead gleaming, took the stairs in twos as Joe set off at top speed toward him. He considered tackling the larger man, but decided to close the distance a little more first. Behind him Joe heard his brother emerge from the club, a security guard yelling "And stay out!" at Kimball's retreating back.

It was two against one. Joe knew he should feel good about those odds. He didn't, though.

Joe noticed a planter filled with red flowers. Those planters lined the main road they had chased him down earlier, the one with the mosque.

Kimball and Mahfouz had been in the mosque for quite a while—definitely long enough to plan to rendezvous there, if they separated.

"Mosque," Joe gasped at Frank, who nodded. Frank was better with directions than Joe was, anyway, and after a moment he directed Joe to stay on Kimball while he veered off down a side street.

Joe had a stitch in his side and these dress shoes really were fucking _murder_. He vowed to himself that he was going to drink half that bottle of wine once they got back to the restaurant—

And Joe let out an audible groan, drawing the attention of curious pedestrians who were already piqued by his running. Bess had probably refused it, or worse, was finishing it off even then.

Bess.

Joe had never been quite sure what to make of Bess. When it came to their perpetual flirtation, she was able to give as well as she got, and he was never bored around her. She liked to stay out of danger, and she liked to be protected, and Joe admitted to himself that he didn't really mind that. He _liked_ playing the protector, when he could. And Bess had enough experience from helping on Nancy's cases that she wasn't entirely defenseless herself.

A few times, when Nancy had brought Bess along on some of their cases and Joe had noticed the fucking _obvious_ attraction between Nancy and Frank, Bess had been convenient to hang out with, and there had been a spark there, too. Joe wasn't sure if she was just so very good at the game, or if there was some genuine interest on her part. According to Nancy and George's whispered conversations, Bess tended to go through guys like, well—like Joe went through girls.

And, _fuck_, she had been hot eating shrimp cocktail on the plane. He'd never thought of the act as particularly erotic, but she'd made it so.

And they still hadn't decided on their sleeping arrangements.

With a shake of his head, Joe focused on Kimball, whose blue dress shirt was showing a damp strip down the back. At least the man was sweating. With any luck, Frank would be able to intercept him. Maybe they could just trail the two back to their hideout and figure out the plan—

Although that had pretty much been blown the second Kimball and Mahfouz had taken off, hadn't it.

Joe had no idea where Frank found the energy; maybe it was his sobriety. Kimball glanced to his right and veered off, but not quick enough to avoid Frank, who came around just then, his fist heading directly for the other man's face.

Three tourists in Western dress gasped, already pulling out their cell phones to take grainy footage they could upload later. Kimball's hip slammed into an idling cab, and while the driver emerged to shake his fist and scream in Kimball's general direction, neither of the two men slowed down.

Joe, swearing to himself that he was going to pass out as soon as he could, managed to grasp Kimball's left arm. When Kimball swung around to confront him, Frank took advantage of the distraction to trip the older man.

"Who are you really?" Frank demanded, as Kimball wrenched his hand out of Joe's grip. "What are you planning?"

Joe rolled his eyes. He hadn't met a terrorist yet who would willingly respond with something helpful like, "Oh, my real name is Adam Jordan and in my room at the hotel, which is the airport Sheraton, room 812, by the way, you'll find all the nefarious shit I'm planning laid out with neat blueprints and schematics. I'm the most organized terrorist you're ever going to meet and I also can't remember shit, so everything's written down there, in plain English. Take me in! I'm a terrible person who deserves to be punished and my ideology is totally wrong. Go America!"

That was when the right cross slammed into Joe's jaw.

Frank had slightly more warning, but Kimball knocked the wind out of the older brother with a horrendously telegraphed blow to his solar plexus, and Mahfouz, shaking out his fist a little from the blow he had landed on Joe, swung Frank into one of the low planters. Frank clawed at Kimball's arm, and Kimball ripped his sleeve out of Frank's grip, dashing through traffic with Mahfouz. By the time Joe could focus enough to possibly find them, they were gone.

Frank coughed his breath back. "Hope George is okay."

_Shit._ Joe remembered that the girl had been pursuing Mahfouz, and pulled out his cell. "I didn't get a call from her. You?"

Frank pulled out his phone. "She texted me a few minutes back. 'Lost him.'"

"So, we're back to square one," Joe said with a scowl, nursing his jaw.

"Not quite," Frank said. He brought his left hand out of his pocket and opened it. On his palm rested a cufflink.

"Awesome," Joe replied sarcastically. "Please tell me it has a secret compartment for notes or it's radioactive or some shit."

"Maybe all of the above," Frank said. "Come on. Let's go see if George is in one piece."

They headed slowly back to the restaurant. George caught up with them when they were across the street; she had broken a heel and walked awkwardly, her left eye was black, and Joe could see a thumbprint clearly against the skin of her neck.

"You okay?" he asked sympathetically.

"I'll live," George said, giving them the eye as well. "So Lurch caught up with you guys too."

"That he did," Joe sighed. "But Captain Planet here is going to save the day, because he found a _cufflink_!"

Frank flipped his brother off. "Do you see them still in there?"

George glanced through the front window. "Uh, no. Well, shit, I guess we could call, couldn't we."

As George dialed her cousin's number, Joe groaned. "The wine. The _wine_ is so gone."

"Really? _That's _what you're concerned about? Not the bomb plot we still haven't thwarted?" Frank signaled for a cab.

"Yeah, they're on their way back to the hotel," George reported as they climbed in.

"Fuck," Frank muttered under his breath. He gave the driver the hotel's address, requesting that he hurry.

"What's the hurry?" Joe asked. "You think Kimball headed back there?"

Frank shook his head. "We have to get back there before Nancy and Ned... are out for the night."

George rolled her eyes. "You mean before they start having wall-pounding dramatic sex."

Joe sighed. "Great. Of _course_ I'm sleeping on the other side of that wall."

"And you are definitely welcome to stay there," George said sweetly, manipulating her cell phone's keys.

When they made it back to George and Frank's suite, the rest of their group was waiting, obeying the text George had sent Bess during the cab ride. Nancy and Bess were as drunk as Joe had ever seen them—well, ever since that nightclub in Bern when he had been kind of hoping the two girls would make out, but that was, he was informed via a glass full of ice water to the face, never _ever_ going to happen. Ned had his jacket off and his tie undone and his hand on Nancy's knee, and Frank definitely wasn't looking at that.

"Tell me you guys didn't kill that last bottle I ordered," Joe said pleadingly.

Bess giggled and almost tipped over, and Ned shook his head. "Sorry, man," he said. "I just can't keep your wife in line. Or mine, apparently," he said, glancing over at Nancy. "Babe, drink some water."

Nancy took a swig from a water bottle and made a face. "Why are we in here again?" she slurred.

Frank showed them the cufflink. "Well, we have a clue."

"Fuck yeah," Bess said sarcastically, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. "I'm getting to bed. Come on, _honey_," she said, reaching for Joe's tie.

Joe was very, very interested in what exactly was going to follow, but Frank started talking again, and Bess gave the general room a very pretty pout.

"I've been sent some photos of possible Kimball candidates," Frank said, sounding pissy. "We need to look at them and see if they ring any bells."

Bess tilted and almost fell off balance, then collapsed to an arm of the couch. "What? I _have_ a damn picture of him."

Frank, George, and Joe stared at her. "What?"

Ned explained about the pictures they had taken when Bess tried and failed four times. "Should be in her bag," he said.

"Great. We can send send it to the Gray Man and see if he can run it through a database. In the meantime—"

Briefly they went over everything they knew, while George downloaded the photos from Bess's camera. "Okay, these are shit," she said. Bess's face twisted in drunken belligerence, but it faded before she could even form something to retort at her cousin. Nancy was unbuttoning Ned's shirt, and he looked just drunk enough to go along with it. Neither of the girls looked like they were going to remember any of it in the morning.

"Okay," Frank sighed. "We've got a cufflink with some kind of hieroglyph on it, a grainy pic of Kimball, and..."

"More bruises," George supplied helpfully, slotting the card back into Bess's camera.

Joe sighed. "There is _no way_ we're getting home by Thanksgiving, is there," he sighed.

"Who cares about Thanksgiving?" Bess drawled, trying to get to her feet again. She grabbed Joe's tie and giggled. "Except for the _shopping_! Oh man the _shopping!_ Seriously you guys need to get this figured out soon. I'm going to do some major damage on Black Friday."

Frank waved them off. "Get your drunk asses to bed. We'll see what we come up with tomorrow."

"Come on," Ned said to Nancy, reaching for her hand.

"Bye guys," Nancy said, as Ned pushed the strap of her golden dress back up onto her shoulder. "Why are you doing that?" she stage-whispered.

"Because I don't want you naked _quite_ yet," he murmured back.

Bess tugged Joe's tie and he followed her lead to the door. "Uh, I'm just gonna make sure she gets to bed okay," Joe said, glancing back at his brother and George.

"Sure you are," George said, quirking up an eyebrow as she tapped away at the computer keyboard. "Oh shit, they got _how_ many touchdowns?"

Frank waved to his brother. "No glove, no love," he reminded Joe.

Joe flipped him off. "I'll be right back," he said as the door swung shut.

"Yeah, sure he will," George told her computer screen, as Frank sat down at the laptop opposite hers. She sighed. "Oh, those crazy kids."

Frank nodded. "By the way, thanks for tracking down Mahfouz tonight."

George finally glanced up and met his eyes, then shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "Well, I wish I'd been able to get him, but he's a total asshole. I held my own, though," she said proudly. "He's probably gonna be walking around with taped ribs tomorrow."

"Atta girl," Frank told her.


	6. Chapter 6

"Guys! Come on!" Nancy was clearly enjoying banging on the door of Bess's suite. "Breakfast!"

"Be there soon," Bess called back. "Maybe if _somebody_ hadn't been having sex this morning—"

"Oh shut up," Nancy replied, crossing the hall. She was about to bang on Frank's door when George opened it, ducking neatly to avoid a sloppy inadvertent right cross. George's hair was a mess, and she was still in a pair of flannel pants and an Emerson t-shirt. Her black eye looked a little worse than it had the night before.

Nancy raised an eyebrow at her friend. "Nice shirt," Ned told her.

George yawned and ran a hand through her dark hair. Behind her, Frank was gesticulating at a computer and holding a rapid exchange with someone at the other end of a cell phone. "I'll see if I can drag him down soon," George promised, shutting the door.

Nancy glanced over at Ned, her blue eyes sparkling. "Shall we, Cole?"

Ned offered her his arm. "We shall, Becca."

As they rode down in the elevator, their hands joined, Ned gazed at his girlfriend. She wore a tailored short-sleeved ivory shirt, belted around her waist, and a pair of khaki pants. The fake engagement and wedding rings gleamed on her finger.

For just a moment, Ned let himself imagine her in rings he had bought for her, paid for himself, put on her finger while she stood in front of him in a long white dress. Imagined waking up with her the way he had this morning, making love whenever they wanted. Imagined taking her on a honeymoon that didn't involve thwarting a terrorist plot.

Well, two out of three wouldn't be bad.

They were so late coming down to breakfast that the hotel restaurant's breakfast buffet was practically deserted. A waitress brought them menus and took their orders for coffee and juice.

"Want me to bring you something from the buffet?" Ned asked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

Nancy shrugged. "Hmm. I guess if the toast goes down okay, I could try some cantaloupe. And if we go to the bar tonight, I swear to God I am not touching a single drop. Ugh."

"I'll hold you to that," he told her, sliding out of the large booth. "Because I have some definite plans for tonight."

Ned loaded up a plate with all the breakfast foods he recognized, and a smaller plate with a few slices of toast and cantaloupe for Nancy. He was heading back to their table when a soft sob caught his attention.

An elderly couple was lingering over coffee at his left, but to his right Ned saw a tall heavyset woman with honey-blonde hair. She was in a large brightly-colored sweatshirt, but her face was buried in her hands.

Ned glanced over at Nancy, saw she was toying with her phone, then back at the crying woman. His stomach sank a little. He didn't like crying, seeing a woman crying made him feel like total shit, and Nancy would be better at dealing with it, surely—

Well, shit.

Ned put his plates down at the closer edge of the woman's table and said quietly, "Hey, you okay?"

She glanced up at him, her green eyes puffy and red. "Oh—I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'll just—"

Ned glanced at her plate. She had picked at a few items, but it was largely untouched. "Why don't you get a fresh plate and join me and my f— Sorry, wife," Ned corrected himself, flashing his brand-new fake wedding ring. "I'm so used to saying fiancée. We just got married a few days ago."

"Aw, you're on your honeymoon," she said, and Ned noticed that her voice was touched with a faint Southern drawl. "I couldn't—"

"Please," Ned said, not sure why he was pressing. Anything making her cry couldn't be good, but he couldn't just leave her over here alone, obviously upset. "It's just nice to hear someone speaking English around here. It'll do you good."

She chuckled and ducked her head. "All right."

Ned gave her a firm nod and went back to his table. Their coffee and juice had arrived, and Nancy took a long sip before smiling down at her toast.

"Uh, babe? I..."

"Invited someone else to our table?" Nancy finished, tilting her head to indicate the woman approaching. "She okay?"

"She seemed upset," Ned admitted.

"You are so soft-hearted," she said, shaking her head.

"Speak for yourself."

They shared a smile as the woman nervously approached, glancing between them as she put her plate down. "I am really sorry. I didn't mean to be so loud—"

"You weren't," Nancy said, extending her hand. "Rebecca. Rebecca Addison. You can call me Becca."

"I'm Cole," Ned said, shaking her hand in turn.

"Susannah Porter-Rashad," the woman with the honey-blonde hair said. "Very nice to meet you. What brings you to Cairo?"

"I grew up near here," Ned said easily. "It's been a long time, though, so don't ask me to translate anything. Just wanted to show Becky here where I came from."

Susannah nodded. "You're so lucky," she said enviously. "You two make such a cute couple."

Then her face crumpled, and she began to cry in earnest again.

Nancy and Ned exchanged a glance, and Nancy patted the woman on the back. "Shh," she said. "It's okay. It's okay. What's going on?"

Susannah reached for a paper napkin and dabbed at her eyes. "It's my daughter, Leila," she said. "She's four. M-my ex-husband Darius had her for a custody weekend about a month ago and h-he took her. I checked the credit card and saw that he bought a ticket and I-I think he brought her here."

"Why would he bring her here?" Nancy asked.

"He's from here," Susannah explained. "His family is back here."

Nancy nodded, and Ned could see that particular spark in her eye. A mystery! A case! In that flash Ned saw all the free time he and Nancy were supposed to spend together vanish.

Susannah seemed relieved to be able to talk to someone, and told them that she had been to the police, but they had been no help, and she hadn't been able to find Darius in any of the local hotels. She was hoping to track down Darius's brother Hanif and Darius's ex-girlfriend, Bishara Yasseen, just in case they might be able to help her with some leads.

"Well," Nancy said, glancing up at Ned, "we would be happy to go along with you and help."

"Oh," Susannah protested, dabbing at her eyes again, "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's your _honeymoon_. You must have a thousand other things you want to do."

Ned had to nod a little, at that. Nancy cut her eyes at him for a second. For her, a mystery trumped sex, at least for a few hours. "That's okay," Nancy said. "I just—I just feel like we had to run into each other for a reason, and Cole and I really want to help yo get your little girl back."

Ned could sense that Nancy was practically vibrating with the need to tell Susannah that she had solved a billion cases and couldn't be better qualified for the job. If only it wouldn't totally violate their cover.

Susannah smiled, timidly. "Oh, thank you!"

Ned returned Nancy's own timid smile, as Susannah threw her arms around her. With any luck, solving the case would take twelve hours, which would put them right on schedule for what he had planned for the evening: chocolate covered strawberries and that hot little red lace number he had seen while he was going through their clothes. The champagne would keep.

His hope for that was fading, though. Ned was just pretty sure that his luck had run out.

* * *

><p>Frank opened the door to find his brother standing there, alone. "Any leads?" Joe asked, shouldering in past him.<p>

Frank glanced into the hallway just to make sure Bess wasn't lingering where he couldn't see her, then cast a questioning glance at his brother. Joe shrugged.

"You manage to wear her out, Hardy?" George asked with a wicked grin. She had covered her black eye with some concealer, but had left the battle wound of her split lip alone. "Or is it just going to be a super awkward morning?"

Joe flipped George off and cast a desperate look at his brother. "Anyway. Frank?"

Frank glanced between them. "The Gray Man is running Bess's photo through facial recognition software, but he doesn't have any hits yet."

"Yeah," George snorted, stirring a styrofoam cup of coffee as she stared at her computer. "No surprise there."

"Mahfouz, the name, isn't ringing any specific bells either."

"The cufflink?"

"Well..." George's tone became serious, and she pulled the laptop a little closer. "All we've been able to figure out so far is that it's the Arabic sign for 'water,' but that's it—and that was a _bitch_ to figure out." She made a face. "Why he would have wanted such a lame cufflink, I have no idea, but I didn't find anything like it online."

"Maybe he had it made, nearby," Joe suggested. He poured his own cup of coffee from their relatively freshly prepared pot.

George rolled her eyes. "Why not just stamp 'Evil Co.' on some shit and just make it obvious."

"Did you do a search for companies that have the word 'water' in their names—"

George snickered. "We're on the _Nile_, and I can't read Arabic. Plenty, I'm sure."

Frank nodded. "So let's ask at the desk. Maybe someone down there can help."

On the way down, Joe stopped by Bess's room. George and Frank couldn't resist the urge to stop and listen, although they did walk a few paces down the hall to make it marginally less obvious. The conversation was hushed, though, and Joe came out with a carefully schooled look on his face. When he saw Frank and George openly gazing at him, he flipped them off.

"She'll be right down."

"And she actually said for us to go ahead?" George asked, raising an eyebrow. "She actually said those words?"

"How do you _do_ that?" Joe asked, staring at George's eyebrows.

George kept gazing at him for a moment, before the elevator arrived.

At the front desk, the brothers and George lingered, waiting for the line of guests to clear. "I'm gonna go find Nancy and Ned," George finally announced, after fidgeting for thirty seconds. "Well, if they've made it downstairs yet."

"She knocked on our door, what, twenty minutes ago?" Frank pointed out.

"Yeah, but that doesn't really stop them," George said sardonically. "Did you see all those convenient out-of-the-way places on the way downstairs? Elevators, broom closets? Yeah."

When George had vanished into the restaurant, Frank turned to his brother. "So. Something up?"

Joe shrugged. "Not really."

Frank sighed. "Sure," he muttered, turning to glance around the reception area. The couple at the front desk were stumbling through a phrasebook, asking for directions to Giza. The daytime heat was already palpable through the large plate-glass windows.

Joe's eyes widened and Frank tried to unobtrusively glance in that same direction, but then he saw her. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't rip his gaze away.

The woman was tall, with deep blue eyes. Her long, well-shaped legs were shown to a distinct advantage by a black leather miniskirt, and her glossy dark hair spilled down over her shoulders. She looked like a Victoria's Secret model. At any second Frank expected to see wings suddenly spring from behind her back.

Frank swallowed. Callie, he reminded himself. He had a girlfriend. Her name was Callie.

The brunette shot a brilliant smile at the two of them. "Hello."

She had a French accent.

Callie. His girlfriend's name was Callie. Frank held onto the word like a mantra.

Joe blinked once. "Hello," he said, extending his hand to the woman. "Cooper Addison. This is my assistant, Frank Carter."

"Dominique Moreau," said the brunette. "Pleasure to meet you."

Frank glanced at his brother, who was practically salivating. "He just can't stop working, even on his honeymoon," Frank said, emphasizing the last word.

Joe nodded. "Sorry, yeah. My wife is on the way downstairs."

Dominique nodded. "Cairo is such a lovely place for a honeymoon. But... you have been injured?"

Their faces. Their bruises looked awful and neither of them had relished the idea of slapping on concealer. "Yes, we saw someone try to mug a tourist yesterday and had to help out."

Dominique covered her mouth with fanned fingers. "How very daring of you!"

Joe shrugged. "It was nothing," he said, clearly enjoying her admiring attention, especially when she rested a hand on his arm.

Joe gave her an abbreviated version of their cover story. Halfway through, a middle-aged woman approached, her stilettos sharp against the tile floor. "Ah!" Dominique said, smiling. "My aunt Isabelle, who was nice enough to invite me along as a traveling companion on her tour. Aunt, this is Cooper Addison and his assistant, Frank."

Isabelle nodded curtly at the two of them. "We really must hurry," she told her niece. "We have a lot to do today." Then, as though his last name had just registered, Isabelle turned to the brothers again. "Cooper Addison? Would you be related to Charles Addison?"

Frank could tell that his brother was fighting the urge to glance over at him, for some kind of signal. "My father," Joe said smoothly.

"Ah! Then I know a relative of yours. Charlotte Karol."

Joe only paused for a heartbeat before nodding. "Ahh yes, Charlotte," he said vaguely. "Wish I could see her more often."

Isabelle touched Dominique's arm. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said to Joe. "Now, love?"

Dominique nodded. "I do so hope we run into each other again," she said, reaching out to touch Joe's hand.

"Maybe if you could... get away from the chaperone, for a while."

Frank only barely caught it, but some unusual sharpness came into Dominique's eyes for just a second, as she nodded. Then she was sauntering away, casting a grin so wide and flirtatious over her shoulder that Frank felt weak in the knees for a second, even if the brunt of it had been directed at his brother.

Joe caught sight of Bess coming off the elevator first. Bess had obviously been hard at work; she looked well-rested and almost seemed to glow with vitality, even though Frank knew she had to have a vicious hangover. She wore a ruffled pink blouse and a pinstriped pencil skirt, and when she saw Joe she walked over to him with a wide grin on her face. "Darling," she greeted him, kissing him on the cheek.

Then she muttered under her breath, "Who was that long-legged slut?"

Frank had to fight the urge to run, as hard and as fast as he could. The conversation couldn't end anywhere good.

"She..." Joe squeezed his eyes shut. "_Shit_. Remember... that reception in D.C.? We were looking for the mole?"

"Yeah," Frank said rapidly. "This past summer. God, that op was huge. I think there were seven different agencies involved."

Joe nodded as they moved forward a space in line. "She was there. Or it was a girl who looked _exactly_ like her."

"So she was the mole." Bess sounded almost sure of herself.

"No, no. We caught the mole. But she had an earpiece—she was one of the other agents. I never did catch her name. The one thing I can tell you for sure is that she wasn't French."

"And what she looks like naked."

From the glance that passed between Bess and Joe, Frank was absolutely certain that more had happened in the hotel room the night before than Joe had any intention of sharing, at least not yet.

"Sure wanted to," Joe admitted. "We were gonna meet at the bar after, but then those damn Stasi agents started tailing us..."

Bess folded her arms. "How awful for you," she said, her voice flat.

Joe glanced between his brother and Bess. "You don't get it. Whatever her name is, she _knows_ I'm not Cooper Addison."

* * *

><p>Bess managed to snag a few muffins and a cup of yogurt, and headed over to join Nancy, Ned, and George. Nancy glanced up at Bess's approach.<p>

"Susannah, this is Nikki, my new sister-in-law. Nikki, this is Susannah. She's from the States, too."

"Pleased to meet you," Susannah said, reaching for Nikki's hand. "Your new sister-in-law? But I thought this was your honeymoon...?"

"It is," Bess said heavily. "I guess Coop thought it would be cheaper if we took a joint honeymoon—my God, for a guy with so much money, he sure wants to hold onto as much of it as he can—but I plan on spending everything we're 'saving' on hot new lingerie, that's for damn sure."

Susannah shook her head, chuckling. "Strangest thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, you'll hear stranger," Bess promised, tearing off a bite of her muffin. A sweating glass of water had been waiting for her when she reached the table, and she took a swig of that as well. Her head still ached like a bitch, and she was distracted at what Joe had been saying about that long-legged skank at the front desk.

Something told Bess that she hadn't seen the last of her. And that she was going to need to step up her game a little.

"It's so nice, that I met you guys," Susannah was saying, her green eyes glowing. Bess could still see the marks of recent tears on her cheeks. "Let me see, Becca, Cole, Elizabeth, Nikki..."

Bess's gaze jerked to George when she heard her cousin being addressed with her own name. George shot a wide grin back at her. Bess narrowed her eyes, but didn't want to flip her off in front of Susannah. After all, as far as the other woman was concerned, "Elizabeth" was Cole's assistant, and "Nikki" wouldn't have that kind of relationship with her.

"Cooper and Frank will be along," Bess said, tearing off another bite of muffin. "They just had to ask the clerk something."

Nancy nodded. "Well, if you could just bring whatever information you have downstairs..."

Susannah nodded. "I need to make a few phone calls as well, but I'll meet you back down here in, let's say, twenty minutes?"

From the look on Ned's face, Bess knew Ned had probably been planning on getting Nancy alone for at least a little while before they went out for the day. He just placed his hand over Nancy's and cast a vague friendly smile at Susannah as she slid out of the booth and headed for the elevator.

"Information about what, exactly?" Bess asked, finishing off her first muffin.

"Susannah's daughter is missing!"

Bess exchanged a look with George. "Because we don't have enough going on. Plus, missing child cases are always..." She shivered. "Well, not _always_, but I'm always afraid they're going to be bad."

"It's her ex-husband. She already knows it's her ex-husband. So, we track that guy down, get the girl back... done."

"Yeah," Bess said wryly, "and that's why the cops have already done it."

"She already has some leads." Nancy waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Piece of cake. What?" she said defensively, as Ned chuckled.

"Yep. Piece of cake."

"So," George said, "while we have time... how about you spill about why Joe looked so wiggy this morning."

Bess opened her mouth, then cast a hard look over at Ned. "What?" he asked. "You know she's going to tell me as soon as we're alone, right?"

Nancy stared at Ned, open-mouthed, and the other girls glared at him. "Go," she finally said. "Oh my God."

When he was barely out of earshot, Bess leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Well, we were _really_ drunk last night—"

"_You_ were, anyway," George interjected, pushing the salt shaker idly on the table.

Bess rolled her eyes.

"Did you two start ripping each other's clothes off and then pass out?" Nancy asked eagerly. "Because... yeah."

George raised her eyebrow at Nancy. "You mean you two Energizer bunnies couldn't last, last night?"

"Oh, he more than made up for it this morning, that's for damn sure," Nancy said.

"I know. I heard. _Bitch._" Bess tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, we're making out, clothes come off, and—I had to throw up, like, _everything_. God, I am _not_ having that rabbit stuff again. And—yeah. He just wanted to go to sleep."

Nancy nodded sagely. "Yeah."

"Shut up," George said, and ducked to the side when Nancy threw a balled-up straw paper at her. "So. No joy."

"Wellllll... then I woke up and..."

George and Nancy perked up, and then Nancy glanced over. "Shit, they're heading back this way," she said quickly.

"So he doesn't want to do it, even though _fuck_, we both did—so we just fooled around a little. And I _still_ don't know why we stopped there."

Frank and Joe approached their table, Ned trailing a little behind. Nancy reached up and toyed with the collar of her shirt, and Bess rolled her eyes as she saw the unmistakable bruise of a hickey on her friend's neck. She glanced up at the guys. Frank had clearly noticed and was looking away; Ned had a satisfied look on his face.

_Ass,_ Bess thought fondly.

"So," Frank announced when he reached their table, "there are apparently only a few places around here that could make this kind of cufflink. We've got a list. Anyone want to come with?"

Nancy smiled apologetically. "Well, I would, but Ned and I have just been roped into a missing child case."

Joe grimaced. "Oh. Well, good luck."

"Yeah, and she knows us by our... new names, so, be careful," Nancy advised.

Frank and Joe nodded. "Got it. Okay, you two? Any takers?"

"I'm game," George said, sliding down the booth seat. She nudged her cousin's shoulder. "C'mon."

"I think I'm gonna bond with my new sister-in-law today," Bess said. "Maybe I can get some shopping in while these two... vanish for hours at a time."

Nancy sighed loudly. "Look, we'll be good, okay? Especially since we have a case to investigate." She rubbed her hands together.

"Yeah, like we don't have that huge—_plot_ to worry about," George said.

"Okay. We'll head to the marketplace. Meet back here for lunch?" Frank took a few steps away from the table, as Bess let her cousin out of the booth.

Joe glanced over at the totally cleared breakfast bar. "Are you serious? The clerk took _that_ fucking long and we missed breakfast? _God_, this sucks."

"Come on. We'll grab something on the way there," Frank said, leading them away.

* * *

><p>Joe clutched at his stomach, stumbling dramatically as he, Frank, and George headed to the marketplace. The smell of succulent roasting meat was carried on the breeze, and Joe paused, trying to locate the source.<p>

"Come on," George said, tugging on Joe's sleeve. "Let's get this over with."

"Uh..." Frank, who was walking a few feet ahead of them, stopped. "Interesting choice of words."

They had headed into an alley shortcut to the market. At the other end of it, approaching rapidly, were four men with knives. One was Mahfouz.

"Shit," Joe breathed.

George grinned. "God. Best vacation _ever_."


	7. Chapter 7

Mahfouz moved cautiously but rapidly forward, knife at the ready. Joe glanced back. He was pretty sure that if they did in fact turn and run, this would only spill out into the marketplace, and that could get bad quickly.

But they were outnumbered.

But they'd been outnumbered before.

Joe glanced over at George, who was already in a defensive stance. At least she had accompanied them, instead of Bess. If Bess were here, Joe would have spent the entire time worried about whether she was okay. George, though, looked like she could hold her own in a fight.

Joe glanced down at the styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee in his hand. "Well, guys, we've had a good run," he sighed.

George shot him a dirty look. "Speak for yourself."

As soon as Mahfouz was close enough, Joe tossed the contents of his coffee cup at him. Mahfouz immediately let out a bellow of shocked rage and began wiping at his eyes. The other three men came around him, their knives up.

Joe delivered a hard kick to the leftmost man, as the middle one swiped at Frank. Frank grabbed his arm and used his momentum to swing him toward the wall. The man on the right was grinning as he approached George, thinking he had gotten off easy with the woman. From the corner of his eye Joe watched George deliver a spinning kick to his forearm, causing him to lose his grip on his knife. He bent to scoop it up and George stomped his fingers, eliciting a loud cry.

Joe knew he was telegraphing the uppercut, but he couldn't help it. The man who had attacked him had his knife blade-down and was slashing savagely at the air. The tip of his knife caught Joe's shirt and slashed a slit down to the hem. "Fuck," Joe swore. "I _like_ this shirt, asshole."

Mahfouz had finally cleared his vision and was heading for George, who had taken her attacker's knife and was using it to fend him off. Joe managed to land a few punches on his attacker's temple, stunning him, then held his knife-hand, delivering a hard chop to his forearm. The man cried out and his grip loosened on his knife. Joe waited a beat and chopped at his wrist, disarming the man before he swung him into Frank's attacker.

Joe couldn't hear what Mahfouz was muttering at George, but he had an idea it involved the concept of a rematch. George was still backing warily, dividing her attention, and when Joe's original attacker regained his balance and returned to the fray, Joe kicked him hard in the knee, sending him crashing back to the ground.

"Really? Picking on a girl?" Joe called over to Mahfouz, and was rewarded when the large man turned to locate the source of the shout. George took the opening to lash out with a few graceful, vicious kicks, her body a blur of motion. Mahfouz managed to block her punch, and the other guy took the opportunity to grab George's hand.

Why the hell wasn't there a crowd gathered around them, someone who could go get help? Four against three were no good odds.

Frank managed to knock the knife out of his attacker's hand just as George slashed at her other attacker, using his divided attention to slam her knee upward into his crotch. He crumpled to the ground with a loud groan and Joe felt a sympathetic pang, even as George released a rough triumphant chuckle.

"Police! Police!" a voice shouted.

_Finally_, Joe thought.

Mahfouz glanced about wildly, then slashed out in a wide arc with his knife. He caught Frank in the side, and Joe's brother reacted with a pained shout; George was able to jump out of his armspan, as Frank fell to the ground.

Mahfouz shouted something to his companions and they scrambled after him. Joe knelt beside his brother, watching the red stain spread slowly on his shirtfront.

George dashed after Mahfouz, then glanced back. "Go!" Joe shouted, and George nodded briskly, then vanished behind him.

Thirty seconds later, the police came around the corner. Their faces became especially stony when they saw the knives in the brothers' hands.

"You are under arrest!" the lead policeman shouted, repeating himself in English, and Joe and Frank dropped the knives in shock.

* * *

><p>"So how did you two meet?" Bess asked, twirling a strand of blond hair around her finger. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."<p>

Susannah smiled sadly, fidgeting with her address book. "Well," she said, "we met at work—Darius and I both work at the Aquarius Group back in New York. It's a really great place; they do underground water exploration. We worked in different departments, but the place is so small that we're like a family. And he's really handsome—he has the sweetest brown eyes, and he is really great. He took me to this really sweet romantic movie on our first date, and he, just..." She sighed, trailing off. "I mean, he was _everything_. Everything I ever thought I wanted."

Bess nodded. "You sound like you really love him," she said. "Like you really loved him."

Susannah shrugged. "I did. We were together all the time, and then, soon after Leila was born, he seemed... different. I thought maybe it was because we hadn't quite planned to have Leila so soon, but he adores her. He fought to have more than just weekend visitation. Guess that should have been a tip-off," she said bitterly, idly snapping and unsnapping the cover of her address book.

Nancy smiled reassuringly. "He doesn't sound like the kind of guy who is really violent," she prompted.

"No, no. He would never do anything to Leila, anything to put her in jeopardy. Or, at least, I never thought he would. I have no idea why he suddenly up and just _took her_. It has been so hard to sleep, to eat, to do _anything_ since. I'm just so glad that my boss was so understanding about me needing the time to come over here. I don't know what I would have done if John hadn't been so great about it."

Nancy nodded. "That is great. So you and Darius still both work there? That has to be weird."

"It... well, yeah, it kind of was, until he disappeared." Susannah glanced down, then forced a smile. "I'm sure your meeting stories are much happier than mine." She glanced expectantly between Nancy and Bess.

"Welllll," Bess began, trailing off.

"I met my husband at school, if you can believe it," Nancy covered, propping her chin on her hand. "Sorority party. Can you be more clichéd?" She chuckled. "He was an upperclassman and _soooooo cute_, and I could have sworn he was totally out of my league. I was dancing with some of my girlfriends, trying not to just stare at him across the room, when some drunk guy from our brother frat just crashed right into me. He was the first one at my side, asking if I was all right, helping me up. He was just so concerned and sweet. He made sure I was okay and then we just kept talking, and, well..." She shrugged. "One thing led to another and soon he was all I could think about. And it's been that way for me practically since we met." She smiled. "Every day I think about how lucky I am to have him. A man that handsome, with that much money, who is _that_ smart?" She shook her head. "He couldn't be more perfect if he flew around in a cape with a red S on his chest."

Susannah smiled. "He does seem like a really awesome guy."

Nancy smiled back. "And it doesn't hurt that when I married him I gained such an awesome brother- and sister-in-law."

Bess smiled. "Right back at you, Becca."

"And you? How did you and..."

"Cooper," Bess supplied. "Well, really, I've known him since we were in middle school, but you know how it is when you meet someone that young... and I was really interested in another guy at the time. We just kept running into each other—one of his friends was friends with one of my friends, and, I don't know. I always thought he was cute, y'know? And then..." Bess sighed. "And then it was like someone flipped the switch, and I was seeing him totally differently. It took me a long time to really open up to him, to trust him—I mean, he is _so_ charming, so smooth that sometimes it's hard to totally trust him. But, underneath all that? He is such a total sweetheart. And I am just so happy to be with him."

Nancy gave Bess a little nod as Susannah clasped her hands. "You two are so lucky. They both seem like really great guys. I can tell you from personal experience that it's really damned—" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, do you two—"

Bess waved her hand. "Girl, it's been a struggle to bite my tongue around you. You say whatever the hell you want."

Susannah released a startled, nervous giggle. "Darius would always frown whenever I cursed. That... I wonder if that's what finally did it, between us. We're so _different._ And I feel like no matter how much he told me about himself, about growing up and everything, that there was this piece of him I would never really understand or even _know_. It was so much easier with American guys. All that common experience." Susannah bit her fingernail.

"And... this couldn't just be Darius trying to reconnect with his roots, to show Leila where he grew up?" Nancy asked.

Susannah shook her head. "If he wanted to do that, why not just tell me? And why hasn't he answered my calls for a _month_? I'm just terrified that he's going to vanish into some hole and pull it in behind him and I'll _never_ see my baby again—"

Susannah had dissolved into gasping ugly sobs as Ned rejoined their group. From the expression on his face, Nancy could tell he was regretting it. "Uh... if we're going to get back here by our lunch date, we should probably get out of here," he suggested gently.

On the street, Bess slipped her sunglasses on. "Becca," she said casually, "where did you say you and Susannah were going?"

Nancy raised her eyebrow as she glanced over at Bess. "We're going to try to track down Darius's brother Hanif."

"He's not... close to the marketplace, by chance?"

Susannah shook her head. "Sorry. Did you need to go there?"

Bess tilted her head. "I was really hoping to... pick up something nice for our dinner tonight," she explained. "I mean, do you two want my help? Three?" She glanced over at Ned.

Nancy shrugged. "Should be in and out," she guessed. "Ask him a few questions and get out of there, especially if we want to get back by lunch. We can just meet back here then, if that would be easier."

Ned glanced between his girlfriend and Bess. "Considering all the... muggings... we've seen lately, I kind of think I should go with Nikki," he said. Susannah raised her eyebrows, glancing between the two of them, but Ned ignored it. "You two think you'll be okay? Is Hanif the kind of guy who would start some trouble?"

Susannah shook her head. "From what I know of him, I doubt it. Muggings?"

Nancy raised her eyebrows at Ned. "Yeah. Bad thing about being an American tourist. Leave your phones on, okay? I'll call you if anything comes up."

"Sure," Ned said lightly, slipping an arm around Nancy's waist, tilting her chin up. He brushed his lips over hers once, then again, a little harder. "Be careful, babe."

"Always am," she murmured, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to give him another kiss. They parted slowly, reluctantly.

Susannah flagged down a cab, flipping open her address book as one pulled to a stop near them. "That... seemed odd," she said, a little under her breath.

"Hmm?" Nancy replied.

"That if your husband is so worried about muggings, he didn't insist to go with us. All together." Susannah frowned a little.

"He knows I can take care of myself," Nancy said absently, and saw Susannah gaze at her questioningly. "Oh. I've been taking karate for years, and I'm good enough to catch _him_ off-balance sometimes. Nikki, though..."

"Ahh." Susannah nodded. "Well, that's really sweet of him."

"Yeah," Nancy agreed with a smile. "He's like that."

And he was doubtless a little hurt that she had taken on _another_ new case. Well. She would just have to do everything she could, to make up for that.

* * *

><p>"So let me just say that I am fucking shocked you wanted to come along shopping," Bess said when she and Ned set out for the marketplace.<p>

Ned shrugged. "I know this is a stereotypically guy thing of me to say, but... Susannah keeps bursting into tears, and..."

"Not too into it," Bess nodded.

"I mean, Nancy? Totally awesome. I can count the number of times I've seen her cry on one hand." Bess glanced over at him, her expression faintly surprised. "And I'm her boyfriend, so I get that it's part of the package. But... I just can't be around that kind of thing unless I have to be." He shrugged again.

"Besides, Nan's on the case. She'll have that jackass tracked down before dinner," Bess said confidently. "And, speaking of dinner... while I was online, not at _all_ trying to figure out what George has been doing all this time..."

Ned tutted. "Facebook-stalking your cousin," he chided.

Bess flipped him off. "_Anyway_. There's apparently this really awesome supper club near here, the Oasis Club. They have _dancing_, Ned," she teased him.

"Then fuck yes, I am _there_," Ned replied. "And we're going to convince them that's the place to go for dinner tonight."

"Right," Bess said with a nod. "You and me? Like this," she said, gesturing between their temples.

"Mmm." Ned smiled at the thought of taking his girlfriend dancing. He had never passed up an opportunity, in the entire time Bess had known him.

Ned remembered a shortcut on the way to the marketplace, and they passed a knot of people being questioned by a few policemen. They skirted around the crowd, and Bess perked up when she smelled the roasted meat kebobs street vendors had available for sale.

"Hmm. Maybe we'll run into Joe," Bess mused aloud. "And Frank and George."

Ned didn't miss her faint emphasis. "So what's up between you guys."

Bess sighed and twirled a strand of her hair again. "Were you really serious earlier when you said Nan was gonna tell you anyway?"

Ned shrugged. "She pretty much does," he admitted. "Or, as far as I know, she does. Of course I don't know about the shit she doesn't tell me."

Bess bit her lip for a second, slowing her steps, and Ned did as well. "If you... well, have you ever had sex with Nan when you two were really, _really_ fucked up?"

Ned snorted. "Given as much as I know about _your_ sex life, I think you probably already know the answer to that."

"Well... from what Nan has said, I think you guys have."

Ned nodded. "It's... I don't know, it's like we're gonna end up in bed anyway, so it's not like we're doing something we wouldn't otherwise be doing."

Bess nodded in response. "So... you have no problem with that."

Ned shrugged. "Definitely not at the time," he admitted.

"So why would Joe say that he... that he wanted to stop because he didn't want me to regret it in the morning?"

"Uh, maybe because he didn't want you to regret it in the morning?" Bess turned a baleful look on him, and Ned put his hands up, palms out. "Really. Guys don't lie the way girls do, and Joe usually seems pretty straightforward. So... what's the problem?"

"That he stopped." Bess glanced at Ned again for a second. "I just don't get why. I told him I wouldn't regret it."

"So, I'm guessing you two made out some?" Bess nodded. "Who kissed who first?"

"From what I can remember, I did."

"And did he say 'No, we can't,' or whatever?"

Bess shook her head. "He was really into it."

"And then...?"

"And then... I took my dress off and then threw up."

Ned rolled his eyes. "What, did you and Nan plan that or something?"

Bess laughed at his expression. "No. Trust me, no. There's nothing I hate more than throwing up, especially when I'm drunk."

"Well, if you _were_ that drunk... that was the end of it?"

Bess shook her head. "It was... well, later, he pretty much started feeling me up, and that was when he said we had to stop, but he was willing to... well..."

Ned took a little pity on her when her cheeks colored slightly. "Try some alternate activities," he suggested, and Bess nodded. "Okay. So he was into it, and he didn't want you to wake up regretting it. And... there's a question here...?"

"So what am I supposed to do? And why the hell did he act that way, if we were both drunk?"

Ned shrugged. "Second question... well, this was the first time you guys had hopped in the sack?" Bess nodded. "If Joe is _at all_ romantic, well, having a first time with a chick when she probably won't remember it? Not romantic. And it's worse when you're not sure if it's her or the liquor talking."

"But it's okay for you and Nancy to fuck when you're both totally lit."

"Of course," Ned drawled. "Because it isn't our first time."

"So you're actually trying to tell me neither one of you were drunk your first time."

"We weren't," Ned said frankly. "And it was _damned_ romantic. I was the perfect gentleman. Cherry-flavored condoms and all."

"My, Mr. Nickerson. You certainly know how to treat a girl."

Ned gave her an exaggerated bow. "First question? Well, don't get drunk tonight, and see what happens."

Bess nodded. "Oh, trust me, I am _so_ not getting drunk tonight."

Ned bumped his shoulder against hers. "Lightweight."

Bess smiled. "So you and Nan seem to really like this little game we're playing."

Ned shrugged. "I do," he admitted quietly. "I... I think she does too, but I really do."

Bess nodded. "At least Frank's keeping his hands to himself this trip."

Ned started to say something, then stopped himself. When Bess glanced up at him, she saw that his jaw was tight. "That happened a lot, huh."

Bess felt like she had just stuck something worse than her foot in her mouth. Like possibly a whole continent. "Uh... well, sometimes."

Ned nodded. "And he wanted her to come play his wife."

Bess shrugged. "Yeah, and..." she swallowed. "Uh, there would have been a time when... I can imagine her doing that, and just not telling you. I mean, not this whole sleeping in the same bed thing, probably, but... yeah. But since you two started sleeping together... I'm not saying Nan was this huge flirt, or a slut or anything, but... she's been a lot more _serious_ about you two." She glanced up at Ned again. "So, I mean, at least _you're_ the one here playing her husband."

"Mmm," Ned said noncommittally. "I should be happy about that. Is what you're saying."

"Basically, yeah. So at least you don't really have any competition. Unlike me."

"Oh?"

Bess finally caught sight of a store like the one she wanted, and she and Ned headed inside. A rack near the back was stuffed with a variety of evening gowns. "So you missed the whole 'oh look, here's this girl I met this summer and wanted to fuck' portion of this morning's itinerary," she explained.

"_Here? _In Cairo?" Ned shook his head. "That sounds like a huge and suspicious coincidence."

Bess nodded. "So I'm sure she's, like, a fucking Nazi or something. But anyway, in the meantime, Joe was going on and on about this _amazing_ dress she was wearing at the time. Red and one-shoulder and slit up to her belly button or whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I'm thinking, we get them to go dancing tonight, I find some spectacular dress like that one... and maybe show him that this chick he might have wanted six months ago may be gorgeous or whatever, but me? I can do that too."

Ned groaned. "This sounds like it's going to take longer than—" He glanced at his watch. "The hour we have before we need to head back for lunch."

"Oh, come on. We can call and say we'll be late. Nan does it all the time."

"And, Bess, much as I love you, I generally make Nan put out for dragging me shopping."

"Well, then, consider this me pimping her out." Bess's eyes sparkled when she grinned.

Ned tilted his head. "I'll allow it," he said gravely. "_If_ you help me pick out a good souvenir for her."

"Done," Bess agreed.

* * *

><p>The apartment building was a little run down, but it was near a busy thoroughfare and seemed pretty well maintained. Nancy glanced up and down the street. A few dusty battered cars were parallel parked in front of the building. Otherwise it all seemed pretty nondescript.<p>

Susannah apprehensively pressed the buzzer for Hanif's apartment a few times, but received no answer. She glanced back at Nancy, then pressed the one for the landlord.

About a minute later, a woman in traditional dress opened the door, and issued a standard Arabic greeting.

Susannah responded rapidly, presumably asking the woman if she spoke English, then switched to that. "Hi, I hope you're having a good day," she began. "I'm Susannah Porter-Rashad—"

"Ahh, yes. You are here to see Hanif?"

"Yes," Susannah said. Nancy perked up a little. "I rang, but he's not answering his buzzer."

"I believe he is at the university, but I will let you into his room to wait," the woman said, pulling a thick ring of keys from her pocket. "It is dangerous for two American girls to stay on the street too long."

Once she had unlocked Hanif's door, the landlady heard a distant ringing from downstairs and left them with a hasty farewell. Susannah cautiously shouldered into her former brother-in-law's room, and Nancy followed.

The apartment was small and sparsely appointed. A pile of dirty clothes was on the floor near the window and radiator. A rarely-cleaned hot plate stood at the edge of the desk, near an empty laptop docking station. Nancy frowned in disappointment. Without Hanif here, the best information they could find would probably be on his cell phone or his laptop—both of which appeared to be with him.

"Hanif always seemed pretty... well, okay, toward me," Susannah said. Nancy had decided that Susannah wasn't good with silence. "Not my new best friend or anything, but he didn't seem to hate me. He probably does now. I'm sure nothing short of the devil himself would make Hanif side against Darius." Susannah shrugged. "Darius doesn't have much family; Hanif is pretty much it."

Nancy nodded absently, glancing through the papers on the desk. Most of them appeared to be schoolwork-related. A pinboard above the desk held business cards, sketches, and other random tchotchkes.

"Hey, Susannah," Nancy said, glancing over her shoulder. "Can you translate any of this?"

Susannah came over, peering at all the detritus. "Uh... let's see. School, school. An exhibition next week." She scrunched her nose. "And here, on the back of the receipt? That says Hotel Nadr."

"Hmm," Nancy mused. "Well then. That sounds like a good place to start. Do you see anything else here that might help us?"

Susannah glanced around his untidy room. "I don't see any of Laila's toys or anything," she said. "And, to be honest... I'm pretty sure that Hanif probably knows Darius and I split up, and I don't know how helpful he'll be if we question him."

"We won't know until we try," Nancy pointed out, tilting her head at the sound of a creak. She glanced at the door.

From between the door and doorframe, Nancy could see a hand slipping through. The hand held a gun.


	8. Chapter 8

A male voice called out something in Arabic, as the arm attached to the gun hand pushed the door further open. Nancy glanced over at Susannah, whose eyes were wide. "Freeze," she translated quietly, her gaze locked on the door.

The man took a step into the room, and Nancy studied him. He was about medium height, with dark hair and brown eyes. He looked like he hadn't had much sleep in a while, like he wasn't too sure about the gun, but that was even worse than a man who looked determined, Nancy knew. Amateurs, nervous people, were more likely to accidentally kill someone.

Susannah stood up, and Nancy's arm shot out in instinctive protection, but the man lowered the gun. "Hanif," she said.

Nancy's eyes widened, and she glanced between Susannah and the man. Hanif turned his gaze from his—well, Nancy assumed, his ex-sister-in-law—to her.

"Susannah," Hanif returned evenly, his voice a little gruff. He let his backpack fall from his shoulder and lowered it to the floor. From the way he was treating it, Nancy was sure it held his computer. He unzipped it and pulled out a large, slightly battered-looking silver laptop, and slotted it into the docking station.

Then he turned back to them.

"Why—why do you have a _gun_?" Susannah blurted out.

"I was mugged a few months ago," Hanif said with a shrug. "This neighborhood is not the best. Better to be safe." Nancy breathed a little more easily when he put it in a desk drawer.

"So you are visiting Cairo? If you wanted to see me, you could have called," Hanif continued, shifting his gaze quickly between Susannah and the floor. He swallowed and Nancy saw his adam's apple bob up and down.

She didn't know yet if he knew where Leila was, but he was definitely nervous about something. Nancy glanced over at Susannah, wondering if the other woman had caught that.

"I—have you spoken to Darius lately?" Susannah asked.

"Not lately," Hanif said, and glanced back at Nancy. "This is..."

"Becca," Nancy filled in, putting a smile on her face. "Rebecca." When Nancy couldn't come up with an even remotely plausible reason for her to be accompanying Susannah, she just folded her hands on her lap and kept her smile in place.

"We're looking for Darius," Susannah said. "I was hoping that he had spoken to you lately."

Hanif shifted his gaze between them again, shrugging. "Not lately. But he is in New York; why would you not just call me...?"

"Because Darius took Leila and I think they're here," Susannah burst out. "I'm trying to find him—"

Hanif blinked. "You think he is here?"

Susannah nodded vigorously. "And if you have any idea, _any_ idea at all of where he might be, anyone else he might go to—"

Hanif shook his head in answer. "No. No, I do not. I am very sorry to hear that you and my brother are having a disagreement—"

Susannah was on the point of tears again, Nancy could tell. Nancy studied Hanif closely as she said, "Perhaps he is at the Hotel Nadr?"

Nancy knew she hadn't quite nailed the pronunciation, but Hanif bristled, and immediately glanced over at the board above his desk. "You have been looking through my things," he said, his voice growing louder. "I must insist that you leave."

"Hanif, please," Susannah said, her hands twisting together.

"I have not heard from him. I am sure that it is a misunderstanding. Please go."

Nancy kept an eye on him just in case he went for the gun, but he seemed to be settling on a stern demeanor to urge them out. He didn't respond to the last pleading look Susannah directed at him, and he didn't quite slam the door behind them, but it was close.

By the time Nancy and Susannah reached the street, Susannah was huffing to herself; she was trying to keep herself from crying. "Well, that was a waste," she said, her voice trembling a little.

Nancy patted her comfortingly on the back. "Not a waste," she said soothingly. "We can call the Hotel Nadr and see if Darius and Leila have checked in there, and we need to do that quick—for all we know he's upstairs calling them right now. _And_ we know that Darius isn't hiding at Hanif's apartment."

Susannah sniffled, digging in her pocket for a tissue. "Like he could," she said, and wiped her nose. "This is killing me, Becca. Being away from her."

"I know," Nancy murmured, patting her back again. She was glancing up and down the street, just in case Hanif had arrived with someone or someone was watching his place. When she glanced back up at the apartment building, a twitch of motion in the blinds caught her attention. Hanif had probably been checking to make sure they did in fact leave.

And a hideous rusting yellow subcompact stood at the curb. It hadn't been there before. Nancy made a mental note of the license plate, wondering if it was Hanif's car. It fit the starving college student persona.

Nancy had to laugh a little at herself, if only silently. It _was_ really hard to turn that particular part of her brain off.

"I... sometimes I think he's never really liked me," Susannah admitted.

"Why?"

"Darius always planned on coming back here. When we started dating, he put that off... and then he pretty much put those plans on hold entirely. I know he had to miss his brother. He probably thinks Darius is better off now. I'm surprised he didn't start jumping for joy when I said I thought Darius was back here."

"Hey," Nancy said gently. "It's okay. Let's get back to the hotel, and we'll call the Hotel Nadr before we have some lunch."

Susannah nodded slowly. "Think we have enough time to go see Bishara today too? If I'm going to totally strike out, I'd rather get it all over with today."

Nancy nodded reassuringly. "Probably so. Buck up, Susannah. We've only just started."

* * *

><p>The cops had only just started.<p>

Joe was thinking longingly of a lot of things. That cup of coffee he had thrown in Mahfouz's face, which seemed like hours ago. The kebobs he had smelled earlier. Police officers he actually had a _good_ relationship with. And, of course, the memory of Danielle's face didn't exactly hurt either.

Or the memory of how he had woken up with Bess cuddled up against him.

He and Frank had been put into a small interrogation room, complete with the requisite two-way mirror. Frank was still favoring his side a little; Joe knew they would head over to the nearest hospital or clinic as soon as they left, just to make sure he was okay, but the wound Mahfouz had inflicted had stopped bleeding. Not that Joe was above citing having a square of gauze and some tape slapped over a wound as police cruelty.

"We'll get that checked out when we leave," Joe said, patting Frank reassuringly on the shoulder. "I'm sure as soon as I get the family attorney on the phone, this little _misunderstanding_ will be straightened right out."

Neither of them had any doubt that someone was listening behind that mirror.

The door swung open and Joe sent up a silent wish that he wouldn't have to call the Gray Man to get them out of this. They hadn't even been in Cairo for a fucking _day_, for God's sake.

The policeman had a surly glower on his face, especially once the brothers established that they were only slightly better than useless at Arabic. "What is your purpose in Cairo?" he barked out.

"Well," Joe said easily, "I'm Cooper _Addison._" He waited expectantly for a moment, knowing full well that the policeman wasn't going to respond. "Addison? Of the—oh, never mind. I'm here on my honeymoon. This is my assistant, Frank Carter."

"Your documents? Passports?"

Joe glanced over at Frank. "Our passports," Frank spoke up, "are back at our hotel. The Grand Hotel Misr."

The cop shot them a look. "I will call," he said, standing. "You are involved in a very serious offense. The punishment—"

"We didn't _do_ anything!" Joe burst out. He gestured at his brother. "You think we _wanted_ to get hurt?"

"You did not plan to be, of course," the cop replied, narrowing his eyes even further.

"They attacked _us_," Joe shot back. Frank's foot nudged his under the table, but Joe's blood was up. "Just ask anyone who saw the fight!"

"We have been unable to locate any witnesses. Luckily for you," the cop replied. He marched to the door and a second later, they were alone.

Frank shot a look at his brother that said, _Maybe keep it down._

Joe shot a look at his brother that had to stand in for his middle finger.

Their documents weren't courtesy the State Department; they were courtesy some terrorist nutjob. If the cops did get their passports from the hotel, Joe just hoped that Kimball had done _one_ thing right, and they would stand up to further scrutiny.

Of course, that only made Kimball all the more dangerous.

Joe folded his arms. "If we don't get out of here soon, my stomach is going to crawl out of my body in search of food."

Frank made an exasperated gesture. "At least you're not _bleeding._"

"Neither are you. Anymore." Joe heaved a giant sigh. "I guess I forgot rule one. When in a foreign country, _never_ pick up a weapon. Ever."

Frank nodded sagely. "It's a good rule."

* * *

><p>Nancy tried to hide her disappointment as she walked back into the lobby. Susannah was alone at the table; Bess and Ned weren't back, and neither were George, Joe, and Frank. <em>And<em> the clerk at the Hotel Nadr desk had been entirely unhelpful, telling Nancy that they didn't release information about their guests to just _anyone_ who called. Nancy considered getting Susannah to call, but the woman had sounded like a bitch, and Nancy had been within half a second of telling her so. She would have to get Frank or Joe to hack into the hotel's reservation system later—if the Bishara lead didn't pan out, anyway.

And _where_ were Ned and Bess?

Nancy was just crossing into the restaurant where Susannah was waiting when her phone went off, right on cue. She hung back and answered it. "Hello?"

"N—Becca?"

"It's okay, you aren't on speaker. What's up?"

"Oh. Good." Bess sounded like she was out of breath.

And Nancy's stomach tightened. What the _fuck_ was going on?

"Yeah, we're—"

"I just—"

The two girls began at the same time, then broke off.

"We're about to sit down for lunch. Do we need to wait?" Nancy started again, keeping her voice even.

"Yeah. I'm—hang on." Bess put the phone down, and Nancy found herself scrutinizing the background noise, listening for a male voice. Then she found herself wondering if she and Ned had run into the rest of their group, and Bess was just calling to tell her that she and Joe had picked up where they had left off so don't wait up—

"Still there?" Bess panted. "Okay, that dress is _out_. I practically needed the jaws of life to get out of it."

"Oh my God, you took him _shopping_?"

"I have a plan," Bess replied sulkily. "It requires a new dress."

"You have a whole new damn _wardrobe_," Nancy said incredulously. She felt like chuckling with relief.

"_Nancy_. Remember when I _needed_ an A-line swiss-dot day dress with a patent-leather lipstick-red belt? _Remember_ that?"

"Yeah," Nancy sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Bess became really fucking single-minded when she had an ensemble planned out in her head. Susannah had caught sight of her and waved, and Nancy waved back. "So you're going to be late. _And_ you dragged him shopping."

"Well, don't worry about that. I promised you'd make it up to him later. I haven't quite found what I'm looking for yet, but we'll just head back out after lunch. So if you can just hang on for, like, ten minutes?"

"Which means thirty," Nancy replied, very aware of how Bess's internal clock worked. "Okay, but if I eat twelve packs of crackers, it's your fault."

Bess chuckled. "Look, this might be super... icky or whatever, but _please_ do put out for Ned tonight. He has been awesome today."

Nancy did have to chuckle at that. "Look, the only thing that could possibly stop me is... well, not scheduled to happen for a couple weeks, so you can rest easy."

Nancy broke the news to Susannah as optimistically as she could, about the hotel. "I'm going to call back later; maybe I'll have better luck with another clerk," she fibbed, crossing her fingers under the table. "Anyway, maybe Bishara will have a clue later and we won't even need to."

Susannah nodded and glanced at her watch. "Are we that early?"

"No," Nancy sighed, "Nikki's running late. I don't know where everyone else is, though. Let me try their phones."

Nancy's call to George went to voicemail after four rings. Frank's phone didn't even ring before it went to voicemail. Nancy was just considering whether to leave a message when her phone beeped, indicating she had another incoming call. The display told her George was calling.

"Where are you?" Nancy asked when she picked up.

"Long story," George sighed, and she sounded just a little out-of-breath too.

"Don't tell me you're shopping."

George snorted. "I'm sorry, have I been replaced by a pod person?"

"Well, your name _is_ Elizabeth."

"Guess I'd better just hang up my tennis shoes right now," George retorted. "I'm on the way, okay, sassypants? Anyone else there yet?"

"Just me and Susannah. Uh—Nikki called and said she and Cole are on the way."

George chuckled at Nancy's narrow save, then made another, more ambiguous sound. "Well, we'll talk about it when I get there."

Between them, Susannah and Nancy had devoured a handful of cracker packets each when George arrived, followed about five minutes later by Bess and Ned. "So I called Frank's cell but it went to voicemail," Nancy said casually. "Think we should wait up for them?"

George shook her head. Nancy noticed a fresh mark on her knuckle. "I swear, we have the worst luck," she said, giving Nancy a meaningful look. "We were jumped by a couple of guys, and we got separated. I think the police took them down to the station house to get their statements."

_Or worse,_ Nancy thought, and saw her own concern mirrored in Ned's eyes. "They still have their phones?" she asked, as Susannah put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure," George replied.

"Then I'm sure they'll call when they're free," Nancy said, as the waitress approached to take their orders.

After lunch, Susannah headed upstairs to freshen up—Nancy was pretty sure that was going to involve redoing all her makeup—and Bess sat back with a loud sigh. "I _hate_ having to remember my name," she muttered.

"So what really happened?" Nancy asked George.

"Mahfouz and three guys jumped us. I know Frank got hurt but it didn't look too serious—when I left them Joe was handling it," George said quietly. "I chased Mahfouz and when I came back, one of the vendors told me that the cops arrested them—or, at least I think that's what the guy said. He was as bad at English as I am at Arabic."

Nancy wrinkled her nose. "Well, they didn't do anything, right? I think going down there would just make it worse. If they aren't back in a few hours, though..."

Ned nodded. "Can't Joe get a little hotheaded sometimes?"

"A little?" Bess retorted. "_Hell_."

"So, Susannah wants to go talk to one of Darius's ex-girlfriends this afternoon. Anyone up for that?" Nancy asked.

"While that sounds like just the kind of drama I enjoy seeing," Bess said, "I have to pass. I haven't found _the one_ yet."

"That's not news," George replied, balling up her straw paper.

Bess shot her cousin a glare. "I have to find the _perfect_ dress for tonight."

George immediately glanced over at Nancy. "Well, I've spent enough time shopping with Bess for _several_ lifetimes. I think I'm gonna go for a run, if you can handle it by yourselves."

"If you get another bruise on your face, I don't think there'll be enough cover-up in the _world_ to make you normal-looking again." Bess sounded severe.

"Okay, fine. If I run into that sociopath again, I'll just run him into a brick wall a few times and run screaming for the police," George said sarcastically, propping her chin on her hand.

Nancy glanced over at Ned. "Actually, I might take a nap," he said. "I think we should all get some rest for... tonight."

George rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to ask."

"No! It's awesome. We're totally going to the Oasis Club. Oh shit, I should probably call and make sure we can get a table." Bess dug in her purse for her phone.

While George ordered another diet soda and Bess looked up the number for the club, Ned touched Nancy's hand, and when she glanced at him questioningly, he led her to an alcove off the lobby.

"They have _dancing_," he said, and his eyes were sparkling.

"Well then, fuck yes," she replied with a laugh. "Of course we have to go. Listen, babe," she said, sliding her arms up around his neck, "I know this isn't quite how we expected this trip to go, but with any luck this afternoon we'll get a good solid lead and it'll be done by tonight."

Ned shook his head. "With any luck," he repeated, sliding his arms around her waist. "I'm not optimistic, but if anyone can get it done that quick, it's you."

Their lips were about to brush when Nancy murmured, "When Bess called me to say you guys were going to be a little late, she said you'd been awesome..."

Ned pulled back a little, and when he saw the vaguely confused, faintly hurt look in her eyes, he chuckled. "Advice about Joe," he explained.

Nancy's brow cleared. "Oh," she said.

"Yes, Miss Detective," Ned said, and leaned down again. "Bess is great and all, but I'm _definitely _taken. Just in case my nap doesn't take too long, you mind writing down your lingerie size for me?"

Nancy chuckled against his mouth. "Did you not see the half-suitcase of brand-new lingerie I brought with me?"

"That was picked out for you by that homicidal nutjob?" Ned replied, and kissed her softly. "Besides, like I said, maybe we should _both_ get back early and rest up for tonight."

Nancy closed her eyes, standing up on her tiptoes as her lips parted under his. When the kiss ended, she felt lightheaded, and her skin tingled in anticipation of his touch.

"Mmm," Ned murmured, and his lips vibrated against hers. "Looks like we've got an audience."

Nancy stepped forward, pushing them deeper into the shadows behind a large potted plant, her body pressed along the length of his. Their next kiss was slow, teasingly sensual, and he swung her between him and the wall, his hand wandering down to cup her ass.

Nancy's eyes fluttered open, and she put her heels back on the floor and cleared her throat. "The sooner we go, the sooner we'll get back," she murmured reluctantly.

"Or we could just get on the elevator, they'll never miss us," Ned said, his voice a husky growl against her ear. He nudged a knee gently between her legs and she shivered, letting out a little gasp when he nipped at her earlobe. "I don't know how ready you are, but baby—"

"Uh-_hum_."

Slowly they parted, turning to see Bess gazing at the two of them, her arms crossed, one foot tapping on the marble floor. "We have reservations. So, N—Becca, you better get your ass back here ASAP. I'm gonna run to the store. And if Energizer Bunny here wants to go recharge..."

Ned and Nancy glanced back at each other. "Someone promised I was getting some later," he told her, brushing a stray lock of hair off her cheek.

"The things I do for my friends," Nancy sighed dramatically, and pressed her lips gently to the point of his jaw. "All right. Let's divide and conquer."

"And even if you get fucking kidnapped—" Bess glanced over her shoulder to make sure Susannah was out of earshot, "Drew, you had _better_ get your ass to that club. Joe needs to be dancing with _me,_ not trying to track you down."

* * *

><p>Nancy had worked undercover at a television station before, and the general chaos was familiar. Susannah told the receptionist who they were there to see, and they were asked to wait while she called Bishara's office.<p>

The reception area was decorated with a few promotional posters. Nancy recognized Bishara's name on one; the reporter was beautiful, with clear skin and shiny hair. She was grinning on the poster, showing even white teeth.

Reporters were good at keeping their emotions under a tight rein. Nancy was going to have to watch her carefully, just in case.

A girl dressed in khakis and a pink blouse, holding some papers to her chest, walked in and smiled in their direction. "You're here to see Miss Yasseen? I'm her assistant, Jamila. She has a few minutes before her next segment, so if you'll come with me..."

Nancy and Susannah followed Jamila through a busy bullpen area, the air thick with the sound of fingers on keyboards and hushed voices on telephones. Jamila neatly sidestepped to avoid a man who came lumbering through, shouting something in Arabic.

Jamila paused and knocked on a door. "Miss Yasseen?"

Bishara had turned in her makeup chair to see them as they came in. "I only have a few minutes," she repeated, looking agitated as she turned back to the mirror. "What is this regarding, please?"

"It's about—it's about..." Susannah had started out confident, but Nancy saw her face drain of all color as her gaze was caught by something else. Nancy followed it, and saw a stuffed animal, a blue and green octopus, almost out of sight in the corner.

Susannah pointed at it, rapidly sucking in a breath. "That's—that's _Leila's_!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Where is she? Where the _hell_ is my daughter?"

Susannah's face was flushing quickly, as she darted over and picked up the octopus toy. Bishara was flushing too, and Jamila looked like she wished she was anywhere else on earth. Susannah shook the blue and green toy in Bishara's face.

"_Tell me where she is!"_

Nancy stepped forward, putting a hand on Susannah's arm. "Susannah," she said quietly, and the other woman whipped her head around, her eyes avid. Nancy had never seen her look more fully present in a moment—or more frightening.

Bishara drew herself up to her full height, which was pretty impressive in her heels. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, color high in her cheeks. "Jamila, please call—"

Susannah glanced between Bishara and Nancy. "This is Leila's toy," she said urgently, shaking the octopus. "It is _hers_. She's _been _here." Susannah focused on Bishara. "How recently?"

Bishara shook her head. "I bought that as a gift for my niece," she said. "I don't know where your daughter is." She held her hand out for the toy.

Susannah's hand closed immediately around the toy, and she set her mouth.

Nancy glanced between the two of them. "Um... Miss Yasseen," Nancy began. "We came by to ask if you had heard at all from Darius. Darius R—"

Bishara waved a hand in dismissal. "Darius. I haven't seen or heard from him in... over ten years, now." She knit her delicate brows. "And, as I told you, I am on a very strict schedule, and I don't have any time to indulge your paranoid fantasies." She proffered her hand again.

Instead of handing it over, Susannah lifted it to her face. "Oh, God, it smells like her," Susannah groaned, a tear streaking down her cheek. "Please, _please_, Bishara—"

Bishara turned to Jamila. "Please summon security," she said briskly.

With an angry, frustrated cry, Susannah released the toy. "You know where she is," she told Bishara, accusation strident in her voice. "She's _afraid_ right now and you could tell me—"

Jamila walked over and placed her hand on Susannah's arm. "Miss, I'm sorry, but I must ask you to come with me."

Susannah cried quietly on the way out to the parking lot, but once they were outside, she sobbed openly. "Oh, God, Becca," she said, and Nancy let Susannah bury her face against her shoulder. "She _knows_!"

"You're _sure_ that was Leila's toy?" Nancy murmured sympathetically.

"It looked _exactly_ like it! And if it was a gift for her niece, why would it be on the floor? It would be wrapped up in a bag, not tossed aside like that. And it _smelled_ like her."

Nancy was pretty sure she didn't want to know what a three-year-old girl smelled like, but she nodded. "Okay. For whatever reason, Bishara didn't want to talk to us. Her assistant looked sympathetic, though. I think we should come back tomorrow and work on her, see if she can give us any clues."

Susannah looked up, her eyes red with tears again. "Another _night _without her," she said miserably.

"I know," Nancy said, patting her back. "I know. But if that is her toy, at least she's nearby, and we're close. We are really close, Susannah."

Susannah nodded. "Okay."

"So let's get back to the hotel and regroup and see if my brother-in-law has managed to make it back yet."

"Oh." Susannah started guiltily. "I'd forgotten."

"I can't blame you," Nancy said, and took out her cell phone. No missed calls. But then the damn thing wasn't showing any reception bars, either. She sighed and put it back in her pocket as they hailed a cab.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Addison. Mr. Carter."<p>

Frank and Joe looked up as the policeman walked in, carrying their passports. Joe kept his face blank, with a hint of hope. Any worry the cop detected would be chalked up to their situation, not his very real fear that the man would rip apart the falsified document and then throw them under the jail.

"A witness came forward and your story has been corroborated, but we will still need a detailed and specific itinerary of what you will be doing for the remainder of your time in Egypt."

Joe sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'll do my best, but I'm on my honeymoon," he said mournfully. "Whatever the little woman says, that's what we've been doing so far. It'll be a lot of shopping malls, probably."

The cop narrowed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, Joe and Frank were out on the street. Frank elbowed his brother in the side, and Joe winced. "What?"

"Smart-assing a cop?"

"What? He was just being a dick," Joe defended himself. "_We_ were attacked and they throw us in an interrogation room for half the day _and_ ignore the fact that I'm _clearly_ about to starve to death?" He clutched at his stomach dramatically. "Which reminds me. As soon as we get you checked out, we are heading to the closest McDonald's. Or Mc... whatever."

Joe hailed a cab as Frank pulled out his newly-returned cell phone. Ten missed calls. He tried to call Nancy, but the call went to what he assumed was generic Arabic voicemail.

Joe glanced over at him as a cab stopped in front of them. "We can get in touch with someone on the way to the hospital, I'm sure," he said, gesturing for Frank to get in.

Joe tried Bess's cell, but she didn't answer. He was just scrolling through his address book for George's number when Bess returned the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" she replied breathlessly. "Oh my _God_ are you guys okay?"

"We're okay," Joe assured her, his stomach doing a little flip at the obvious concern in her voice. "We were just cooperating with the utterly exemplary local police force, but we're out now. On our way to the hospital."

"Did they rough you up?"

Joe chuckled. "I'd like to have seen them try. No, just have to make sure Frank here won't die. So what are you up to?"

Frank rolled his eyes at his brother, slumping a little in the other corner of the backseat.

"Oh... nothing," Bess said, with clearly false innocence. "Although, _sweetheart_, I have a _huge_ favor to ask you, and since it _is_ our honeymoon..."

Joe heaved a huge sigh. "Please tell me it involves a bottle of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. Or a huge steak and baked potato. Oh my _God_, I am about to die of hunger."

"It does, actually," Bess said brightly. "We're going to a supper club tonight, and they have dancing, and we're just going to forget about everything and have a good time."

Joe glanced over at Frank. "Make sure they shellac that thing, or whatever," he said, nodding at Frank's side. "We're going dancing."

"Are you _serious,_" Frank replied. "Says who?"

"Says the little lady," Joe replied. "And the little lady, she makes the rules." Joe returned to the call. "So I'm guessing the other pair of our party is on board with the plan as well. Or is this just an intimate... night you've planned for us."

"Well, considering that you _had_ to drag your brother along, I thought it was only fair to book reservations for the six of us. Not sure if you knew how much your _brother_," she said, putting a slight emphasis on the word to indicate she was talking about Ned, "enjoys dancing."

"Thanks for pointing that out," Joe said. "Because Frank certainly looks less than thrilled at the prospect. Guess he just needs to find the right partner."

Bess chuckled. "Well, _Elizabeth_ would much rather karate-chop a guy than dance with him, but she does clean up nice. So I've heard."

Frank was pronounced relatively healthy at the hospital, and given antibiotics, although he was pretty sure he didn't need them. Mahfouz didn't look like the kind of guy who would stab him with an ebola-tainted knife, but who knew.

Joe wolfed down two hamburgers, moaning with ecstasy, as Frank more quietly finished his, rolling his eyes at his brother's dramatics. "Still got the list?"

Joe cleaned his fingers, patting his belly as he reached into his pocket. "Yyyyyyyyyy—yes," he said, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper listing business that might be able to tell them about the cufflink. "So, where to first?"

The clerk at the first shop was apologetic but unhelpful, and the clerk at the second shop recommended the third one on their list. Joe was flagging a little as they walked into the third shop; his lack of sleep and the jetlag and his full belly were catching up with him.

The man behind the counter, who introduced himself as Azizi, glanced down the length of his empty shop as Joe reached into his pocket. He and Frank had agreed to keep the cufflink out of sight of they could, although Joe thought the sight of it would be galvanizing to a man who was involved in the plot.

"So I was looking for a shop that carries a very specific style of cufflink," Joe said, and described it in detail, even sketching out a simplified version for Azizi. "Are you able to do such work at your shop?"

A soft bell rang at the front of the shop. Joe glanced over his shoulder to see a large, ominous-looking man in a dark suit walk inside and station himself beside the door.

Boy, was _that_ a good sign.

"Where did you see such a design?" Azizi asked, his avid gaze darting between the two brothers.

"I—on a cufflink," Joe said. "Of course."

"I must see it," Azizi insisted. "Do you still have it?"

_Still? _Joe thought. He glanced over at Frank. "It is back at our hotel," Frank said.

"I must see it," Azizi said again. "You can return with it?"

"We have plans tonight," Joe said. "We will bring it by tomorrow."

Azizi let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, okay," he agreed, clearly dissatisfied. "Tomorrow. I open at ten."

Joe put on a fake smile and thanked the man, but he and Frank didn't speak to each other until they were out on the street, past the thug at the door. "Okay, so... What do you think that was about?"

Frank snorted. "Jewelers have access to a lot of the material that could be used for bombs, and the steady hands to do the work," he pointed out.

Joe shrugged. "Hmm."

"And the way he was so insistent on getting that cufflink back makes me think there could possibly be something inside."

Joe stuck his hand in his pocket, making sure the link was still there. "I'll leave you to it, bud. I have this feeling I need to rest up for tonight."

Frank glanced over at his brother. "Do tell," he said dryly.

"Just a feeling," Joe said, and started whistling innocently.

* * *

><p>Nancy let herself into her and Ned's suite, letting the door drift quietly closed behind her. Susannah was keyed up, and would be back down soon to plan strategy with Nancy. The main room was empty, and Nancy closed her eyes, leaning back against the door. Maybe they would be able to get something out of Jamila in the morning and she could help Joe and Frank on the bomb plot, and <em>then<em> she and Ned would be able to spend some more quality time together.

Their bedroom door was closed. Nancy let her purse fall to the crook of her arm, then to the low table beside the couch. She approached the bedroom door quietly, pushing it open...

And Ned wasn't there.

Nancy sighed in disappointment. She had been hoping he would be there so they could steal a few moments together before she had to be Becca again in front of Susannah.

She stepped into the room. The maid had tidied everything up, and the bed was made. Nancy glanced down at the rings on her hand.

It was strange, but oh so seductive, to imagine that it was real, to imagine that he really was her husband. They would come on cases together, and maybe Bess and George would come too, like they had on this one.

She sat down on the bed.

And if she wasn't waiting for a case contact, if they had a few hours to themselves, she would change into one of those deliciously small nightgowns and wait for him, sprawled on the bed. He would walk in, some greeting on his lips, and see her, and that would be the end of talking for a while.

Nancy shivered. She didn't understand it, how even after they had been together so long, just the _thought _of him was enough to drive her to distraction. She had thought this pull between them would lessen in time; a very small part of her had been nervous about seeing Frank again.

But if anything had faded, it had been her feelings for Frank. And Ned marking her with that damned hickey had been juvenile and ridiculous—and more than a little hot. She couldn't imagine that playing Frank's wife would have been nearly as easy or as felt nearly as _right_ as this did.

Nancy's fist clenched against the coverlet. She definitely owed Ned a real vacation after all this.

When she heard movement in the next-door suite, Nancy stood up and brushed her hands down her thighs. She chuckled when she heard an insistent pounding on the door between them.

"N—Becca! You in there?"

"I'm here," Nancy called back. "And alone, although Susannah will probably be down soon."

"Ugh." Bess opened the door. "Oh my _God_, Nan, you have _got_ to see this dress."

Nancy chuckled as Bess scurried to the bathroom, carrying a long dress bag with her. About thirty seconds later, Bess emerged in the dress. Nancy was used to Bess's instant fashion shows, and when Bess slipped on her heels and walked into Nancy's suite, a grin lighting up her face, Nancy nodded.

"You are _definitely_ going to have his full attention tonight," Nancy promised. "You look amazing, girl."

"Thanks!" Bess chuckled, then glanced at the door in alarm when they heard the card reader activate. Ned shouldered in carrying a small bag, and smiled when he saw Nancy and Bess gazing at him, wide-eyed.

"Well, hello to you two."

Nancy gestured at Bess. "What do you think?"

Ned cast his gaze up and down her body, then gave her an appreciative grin. "Nice work, Bess. You are definitely going to be the second-prettiest girl there."

Then Ned touched Nancy's hand, and he started to draw her toward the bedroom. "Come on," he said softly. "I need to show you something."

Nancy held back, an apologetic smile on her face. "Susannah's about to come back down," she said timidly. "I'm sorry."

Ned glanced over at Bess. "You mind entertaining Susannah for a few minutes?"

Bess heaved a mock long-suffering sigh. "I guess."

"You _guess_? You're the one who made me a promise about someone putting out."

"_Ugh_! You two _better_ not be gone that long." Bess's voice was muffled as she, out of sight, changed out of the dress.

Nancy laughed. "How long do you think it takes?" she shot back, as Ned closed the door behind them.

From the second she had seen him, the second they had been in the same room together, her body had faintly tingled with awareness. It was all she could do to force her gaze away from him. Above all she hungered for contact, for the sensation of his skin against hers, for the sound of his voice, the weight of his gaze on her.

The sex had done it. The more they touched, the more she _needed_ his touch, in a way she never had when they had stayed on the other side of that line.

When he closed the door behind them, the urge to launch herself into his arms was almost irresistible.

"Your case isn't over yet." Ned put the small bag down on the bed and sat down beside it.

Nancy shook her head reluctantly, slowly moving close to him, stepping between his knees. "But we found one of the little girl's toys today, at the ex-girlfriend's office," she said softly. "She tried to play it off. We're going to go back tomorrow and see if we can get anything out of the assistant, and with any luck..."

Ned nodded slowly as she trailed off. "And with any luck it'll be done tomorrow," he supplied, bringing his hands up to cup her hips.

Nancy put her hands over his, her lips curving up in a soft smile. "So what's in the bag," she murmured, her eyes gleaming.

"Don't _you_ want to know," Ned teased her. "I don't know, anticipation..."

"Is overrated," Nancy said, leaning over to peer into the bag. Ned tightened his grip on her hips and drew her back, away from the bag.

"That's not the only thing I got you," he told her, and stood up, very close to her.

"Oh? Is my other present in your pants?" she asked playfully, squeezing his hips.

Ned leaned down and kissed her hard, and with a little moan she parted her lips and gave in to it. She buried one hand in his hair and he swung her around, the backs of her legs against the mattress as he nipped at her lower lip, his hips tight against her. Distantly, on the other side of their closed door, Nancy heard Bess opening the outer door and greeting Susannah.

Ned broke the kiss, his lips brushing along the line of her jaw, and Nancy sighed in pleasure. "So you're not chomping at the bit to get out there and talk to her," he murmured into her skin.

"Mmm," she agreed quietly. "Let's just say I'm eager to see your follow-up to what we got interrupted doing earlier."

Ned chuckled, one hand slowly drifting up over her. She arched, coloring a little. "Don't start something you won't finish," she warned him.

"Oh, sweetheart, I have every intention of finishing," he said with a lecherous wink, squeezing her, and she pushed herself up on her toes, letting out a harsh gasp. She tilted off-balance and fell with a thump onto the bed, then scooted back.

He left her there, scooping up the bag and depositing it on the dresser, then rummaged around in his suitcase. Nancy sat up and straightened her shirt, waiting for her heart to slow a little.

He came back to her with a slender white box, and sat down beside her on the mattress. His brown eyes were warm on her as he handed it over.

"Oh, Ned," she said quietly. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said softly. "Go ahead, open it."

She lifted the lid of the box and carefully peeled back a layer of cotton batting. "Oh... baby, it's beautiful."

The pendant was a translucent light-blue teardrop-shaped stone, surrounded by tiny white stones. The chain was delicate, and slipped against her fingertips as she lifted the pendant out of the box.

"Can you put it on me?"

Ned nodded and carefully unclasped it, and she turned and swept her hair up so he could put it on her. He fastened it and stroked gently down the nape of her neck, and she turned back to him.

"It looks beautiful on you," he said softly. "Though it's not quite as beautiful as you are. And I bet it'd look even better if there weren't all those distracting clothes on you."

Nancy chuckled and slipped her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much," she whispered. "Have I told you how awesome you are, lately?"

"Not lately," he said, and brushed his lips gently against hers. "Although actions speak louder than words, or so I've heard."

"And how on _earth_," she mused aloud, "could I possibly show you how grateful I am for how amazing you are?"

"I can definitely think of a few ways," Ned murmured huskily, and Nancy let out a delighted giggle as he pushed her down onto the bed.

* * *

><p>George was on the other side of the door when Bess answered the knock. "Hi, Liz," Bess said, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Susannah came down to talk to Becca..."<p>

"And where _are_ Becca and Cole," George mused aloud, walking past Bess. Bess's athletic cousin was fairly glowing with exertion, and she idly did a few stretches.

Bess rolled her eyes. "Where do you think," she said dryly, jerking her chin in the direction of the bedroom.

Susannah was on the couch, flipping through the stations on the television set. "Oh," she said, stopping on one of the local news stations. "It's her."

"Her who?" Bess asked. George crossed to the small refrigerator and found a bottle of water.

Susannah paused for a second before answering. "Bishara Yasseen," she said. "Becca and I went to see her this afternoon and we saw one of Leila's toys in her dressing room." Susannah's lower lip trembled for a second, but she managed to keep herself under control.

"Well, I found what I was looking for today, so if you two are going back tomorrow..." Bess leaned forward and peered at the screen.

"Yeah, me too," George put in, "and I doubt Cole will have much for me to work on, especially since he and Becca keep sneaking off..."

A bittersweet smile touched Susannah's lips. "I don't blame her."

"Me either," Bess said, and chuckled when Susannah glanced at her. "What? Cooper is great too. They're both easy on the eyes."

Susannah chuckled and turned the volume up a little. Bishara was reporting live from the banks of the Nile, and from what Bess could follow, she was talking about the area deteriorating due to overdevelopment. Her delicate brows were knit, and she looked very concerned. Her dark eyes were warm and expressive. Bess could see why she was a great reporter; she was making Bess worried about a problem she hadn't even known about fifteen seconds before.

"The Aquarius Group is working on problems like that," Susannah mentioned, as Bishara walked down near the water. "I love knowing that we can make a difference over here."

George nodded, taking a long swig from her water bottle. "It's such a pretty area. It's terrible to think about things going badly just because people are trying to make a living."

Bess startled when she heard the suite's phone ring. "They'd better not be calling from the bedroom asking for room service," she said, mock-bitterly, and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Is this Bess Marvin, or Nancy Drew?"

Bess opened her mouth and was about to automatically respond to her own name, when she went pale. _Shit_. Were their covers already blown so quickly?

"I think you have the wrong number," Bess said, putting false confidence in her voice. "Who is _this_?"

The person at the other end paused for a second. "Give the others a message for me," he said, his voice going lower, more ominous. "Get out of Cairo now. If you care about your well-being or that of your friends at all, you'll be on the next plane out of the country."


	10. Chapter 10

Bess flinched at the sharp click of the receiver in her ear, and slowly hung up the phone. She glanced over at her cousin, and actually jumped when she heard the door open in her half of the suite.

_Joe_.

Bess scrambled to her feet and went through the connecting door, ignoring the little flutter her heart gave when she saw her cover husband, who was talking to his brother. "Darling," she said urgently. "Susannah's here to talk to Becca. Are you two all right?"

"None the worse for wear," Joe assured her. "So Becca is still on the case?"

Bess rolled her eyes. "Well, either that or her husband." She dropped her voice, glancing between Joe and Frank. "Someone just called, asked if I was either Bess or Nancy, and said we need to get on the next plane out of here."

"For a lead or because we're in danger?" Frank asked quietly.

"Because we're in danger."

Joe smiled. "Good."

"Good? How can you...?"

Bess, Joe, and Frank were just walking through the connecting doors when Nancy and Ned came out of the bedroom. Nancy's hair was rumpled and Ned had a slight smear of her lipstick against his cheek. "Who was on the phone?"

"Wrong number," Bess said, one eyebrow up, and Nancy raised her own in return.

Susannah stood up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt—I know it's your honeymoon—"

Ned waved a hand in a familiar expression of resignation and dismissal. His hair was rumpled, too. "It's all right."

Susannah nodded. "I'm going to call Darius's best friend back home and see if he's heard from him, but we'll just meet in the restaurant in the morning, right? And head over to the television studio?"

"Definitely," Nancy nodded.

"Maybe eight a.m.? I don't want Bishara to have time to put us off again," Susannah said timidly.

"Sure," Nancy agreed, elbowing Ned in the ribs when he let out a soft moan of protest. "And, since Cole here was just saying how sad he was that he hadn't gone with us..."

Ned recomposed his features and smiled. "At your service, milady."

Nancy flashed him a dazzling grin.

Susannah smiled back at them, then glanced from Ned to Frank. "Wow. You two really favor each other," she giggled.

"Oh," Bess said. "No. This is Cooper. That's Frank, his assistant."

Susannah studied Joe, then Ned. "Wow."

"You have no idea," Bess said, sliding her arm around Joe's waist. He returned the gesture.

"Well," Susannah said, glancing at her watch, "I'd better get back to my phone if I'm going to get anything done. I'll see you at eight?"

"Sure thing," Nancy said, sliding her arm around Ned's waist too. Once Susannah was gone, Bess and Joe slipped apart; Ned just put his arm around Nancy's waist and pulled her closer to him.

George muted the television. "Okay," she said, once they were pretty sure Susannah wasn't likely to return to the room for any last-minute change in plans, "who was on the phone?"

"A man, saying that we need to leave at once unless we want to get hurt. _And_ he knew that I was either myself or Nancy." Bess shivered and sat down on the couch.

Ned sat down in an armchair, and Nancy perched on one of the arms, her leg against Ned's. "Did he have an accent? Like he was from here?"

"N—no, I don't think so," Bess said slowly. "But I don't know, honestly. He just sounded gruff and irritated more than anything."

"And are you doing okay?" George asked Frank, crossing her arms. "I'm really sorry I had to run back there."

Frank shrugged. "At least that way you didn't lose half the day getting yelled at by cops. The nurse at the hospital said I should be fine. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Well, not that much."

Bess cast a sympathetic glance at him. "You think you can dance?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Can we talk about the case, _please_? Ugh."

"Please, go ahead," Bess said with sarcastic solicitude, folding her own arms.

"Yeah. We took the cufflink to three stores, and the guy at the last one obviously recognized it and demanded that we give it to him."

"But you still have it, right?" Nancy asked, her blue eyes sharp.

"Of course," Frank said, and Bess saw Ned's jaw tighten a little. "We're going to go over it very carefully tonight, and tomorrow, we'll need to run surveillance when we return the cufflink. Kimball or one of his men will come by for it, or he'll take it to someone, and that'll give us a lead."

"Well, Ned and I will be with Susannah," Nancy shrugged.

"Bess and I could come with you two," George said, glancing at her cousin.

"Four people for a stakeout?" Bess glanced over at Joe, and reconsidered. "Well, especially if we had to pair up or whatever..."

"The shop has two entrances," Joe pointed out. "It's not a bad idea to keep an eye on both."

Frank nodded. "Okay. So we have a game plan. Breakfast at eight—" Bess shuddered. "And then we split up. There are apparently some areas of Cairo that aren't exactly great for cell reception, though, so let's be smart about this."

George nodded. "Sounds good."

"And now!" Bess announced, standing up. "Now we get ready for tonight! You have _no idea_ how much I need this."

"Me either," Ned murmured, drawing Nancy into his lap, and she giggled when he nuzzled against her neck.

* * *

><p>Frank wasn't quite sure how it happened, but George ended up in Bess's suite across the hall, getting ready for their outing. It suited Frank just as well; he and Joe were studying the cufflink, searching for any other clues it might be able to provide. Frank half-wished he had brought along a gas chromatograph, but considering how ballistic the cops had gone over the far more commonplace explosive in his luggage, they would have been positively beside themselves with malicious glee over finding that kind of equipment accompanying two couples on their honeymoon.<p>

The door to Frank's suite had just swung shut behind Joe when he was shouldering his way back in with his toiletries bag and one of his suits. "George shooed me out," he explained, tossing them onto the couch. "Bess is running around in her underwear waving curling irons. Okay. Microdot?"

Frank studied the cufflink closely, scraping the short thin edge of his nail over any irregularities he found. He shook his head. "It _seemed_ like a good lead," he said, and sighed. "Here, take a look at it." He glanced at his watch. "I need to make a call."

While Joe would surely ignore him anyway, Frank shut himself out on the balcony to make the call. He heard several soft clicks in his ear before even the first distant ring. "Hello?"

"Hey gorgeous," Frank said, closing his eyes.

"Well hello, handsome," Callie replied with a little chuckle. "Is this the call I've been waiting for?"

"Not quite yet," Frank admitted. "We're still looking. Even got in a fight earlier, so I'll have a fun new scar when I get back if I'm not lucky."

"Oh, Frank," Callie sighed. "I hate it when you say things like that. Tell Joe he's supposed to be keeping a better eye on you."

"Oh, he was in the fight too," Frank said. "Anyway, we're going dancing tonight. And I just want you to know that every single second of it, I'll be wishing you were here."

"Mmm," Callie replied. "How about we plan to go dancing when you get back, so you'll have something to look forward to."

"Sounds great." Frank thought of Nancy and Ned the way they had been when he had glanced back on the way out, her arms around his neck, snuggled on his lap. "I'll probably need it, because whatever this guy is planning, I'm sure it won't be good."

"Tell him that you have to make it back for Thanksgiving," Callie suggested. "Maybe he'll be patriotic and tell you."

"Yeah, they don't exactly celebrate Thanksgiving over here."

"Their loss. You should _see_ the menu I'm planning."

Frank groaned and patted his stomach. "I'm starving. Thanks for reminding me."

"Sorry." Callie chuckled. "You take care of yourself, okay? I want you back in one piece."

"Yes ma'am," Frank replied. "Love you, babe."

"Love you too."

Frank walked back in and saw Ned just walking into the suite. His face was freshly shaved and he wore a classic tux, along with one of the ostentatious watches provided for their cover.

Ned's eyes met Frank's, and Ned shrugged. "The girls are running around half-naked."

Frank was surprised that anything had induced Ned to leave that sight, but he gestured to Joe. "No luck finding any secret compartment or anything in the cufflink."

Ned sat down on the couch. "Maybe it's a sign to someone. If Kimball and his conspirators don't know each other by sight, maybe this is how they show they're in on it."

Joe and Frank exchanged a glance. "Good point," Joe said, and glanced at his watch. "Shit. I'd better get ready."

"Let me get the first shower," Frank said. "Be out in a second."

* * *

><p>Ned took the remote and navigated immediately to the sports channel, and Joe settled down on the other end of the couch. "Shit, they lost <em>again<em>?" he groaned, when he read the crawl at the bottom of the screen.

Ned chuckled. "Guess so."

Joe glanced over at the guy who was pretending to be his brother. Ned looked completely at ease, but of course he would be. The prospect of dancing with his longtime girlfriend wasn't daunting at all.

If they came back to the hotel and Joe didn't go to Bess's room with her, she would be mad. If he _did_, though...

Ned glanced over at Joe. "Excited about tonight?"

Joe laughed. "How could I _not_ be, the way Bess keeps going on about it."

Ned nodded, smiling. "Yeah. She's... like that."

During the next commercial break, Ned turned back to Joe. "Look, Bess... I don't quite know what happened last night, but she... fuck, there's no easy way to say it. She likes you a lot."

Joe rubbed a hand over his face. "I like her too. She's hot, and she's just fun to be around... and I don't want to fuck things up with her, you know? Because half the time, when Nancy and Frank are working together, Bess is with her, and I'd hate to make things awkward."

Ned nodded. "So don't," he suggested. "Tell her that. And if she still wants to go for it—and she _will_, trust me—then just make the best of it. Besides..."

"Besides, what?" Joe asked, despite his better judgement.

Ned was quiet for another moment. "Besides," he said quietly, nodding at the bathroom, where the sound of the shower had gone quiet, "it sounds like whatever happened between the two of _them_ hasn't made things too awkward."

Joe was quiet, too. "So... you know."

Ned snorted. "It's obvious," he said.

Joe sighed. "Look, I don't know... everything that went on between them, but I _can_ tell you that she never looked at Frank the way she's been looking at you on this trip."

The keycard reader made a quiet noise and George walked in wearing a deep blue-green halter gown. Ned let out a low whistle. "I sense Bess's handiwork."

George gave Joe and Ned a sarcastic curtsy. Her hair was shining and she wore a nice smoky eyeshadow and matte lipstick. Her legs were shown to advantage by a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals. "With any luck Bess'll be ready before midnight," she sighed, sitting down at the table and pulling her laptop toward her. "Any luck with the cufflink?"

"We can't find anything different about it specifically," Joe said. "Maybe it's a marker so the conspirators know each other, though," he added, nodding at Ned.

"Mmm," George said neutrally, then glanced up. "Could be."

Frank stepped out of the bathroom in a towel. "All yours," he told Joe, not noticing George. When she giggled, Frank flipped her off, then went back to his bedroom.

"Hey, Hardy," Ned said softly, as Joe stood up.

"Yeah?"

"I've known her almost as long as I've known Nancy, and... if you hurt her?" Ned's dark eyes were steady, serious.

"I get it," Joe said hurriedly. "I won't."

George kept her gaze on her laptop, and Joe had thought she wasn't even listening until she said, "He'll have to get in line behind me, hon." She glanced up too and gave Joe a dangerous smile.

Joe swallowed. "Okay," he said. "I won't. I promise I won't."

* * *

><p>Nancy knocked at the door to the suite and stepped back. Bess smoothed her dress over her hips nervously. Nancy shot her a reassuring smile.<p>

"You look great, Bess."

Bess's answering smile was still nervous, and her blue eyes went immediately to the door when it was opened for them. Frank smiled when he saw them.

"You two look great."

Bess giggled as Nancy said, "You don't look so bad yourself, Hardy." He wore the standard tux, and looked like he was about to play James Bond.

They stepped into the room and Ned was already on his feet. When he saw Nancy, he smiled. "You look amazing, Nan."

Nancy glanced down at her black satin cocktail dress and sequined high heels. Her dress was fitted tight from the strapless top to her waist, and then flared a little at her hips. She flashed him a wide grin. "Thanks."

But she was really waiting to see Joe's reaction to Bess's dress. Bess's gown was a rich, flamboyant red, one-shoulder, that emphasized her curvy figure. She had spent twice as long as Nancy on her makeup, but she looked sophisticated instead of overdone.

Joe had to swallow before he could speak. "You look—Wow, Bess."

Bess grinned. "Thanks."

The Oasis Club was all gleaming marble and tile, and featured a stage, a dance floor, and a twelve-piece live band. The six of them were escorted to their table, and Nancy had just glanced at her menu, then up at Ned, when she saw that his gaze was elsewhere.

Namely on the stage, where a set of belly dancers were performing. Their diaphanous costumes moved like colored smoke against their lithe frames, and Ned wasn't the only member of their party who was enraptured. Joe and Frank were spellbound as well.

Nancy exchanged a disgusted glance with George. Bess clapped. "Ooh! I've heard belly-dancing classes can really keep weight off."

Ned cleared his throat when Nancy nudged him in the ribs. "Well... I mean, not that any of you need to lose any weight, at _all_, but I definitely wouldn't mind... watching that class."

Nancy chuckled. "Smooth, Nickerson."

He leaned over and put his mouth against her ear. "Babe, you would look _so fucking hot_ in one of those outfits."

"Don't you mean that it'd look good on your bedroom floor," she whispered back, and let out a wicked giggle.

Ned patted Nancy's knee. "The only thing I like better than seeing you dressed up," he said.

Bess opened her menu. "Wow."

Joe did the same and clutched at his chest. "Holy _shit._ Do these prices include the floor show or something?"

"Millionaires would _laugh_ at these prices," George reminded him. "Which, _shit. _I want to see a damn wine menu."

"Grilled prawns, or the fruit and cheese course to start?" Bess mused aloud. "Or _both_."

George, Frank, and Ned split the first bottle of wine, which meant it went quickly. Joe took a glass of the second bottle. Nancy and Bess stuck to water, although Nancy did steal a sip of Ned's wine. When Joe offered to fill Bess's glass, she told him she didn't want the terrible hangover again. Nancy saw the spark of interest in Joe's eyes.

The meal was delicious, and even though Nancy did enjoy sampling a few dishes she had never tasted before, Bess was definitely happier tucking into grilled prawns and fillet mignon. Once they were all stuffed, and half of them were happily buzzed, the waiter brought coffee. Nancy noticed that Ned's gaze was lingering on her, even though the belly dancers had returned to the stage.

Joe's gaze was drawn to the sinuous movement before them. "Hey," he said in some surprise, looking at the gathered crowd in front of the stage, "that looks like Dominique."

Even though she tried not to, Nancy glanced immediately at Bess, who was fighting to keep her face impassive. Joe glanced over at Bess too, almost like an afterthought, but even the fact that he did so made Nancy feel a little better.

Frank nudged his brother's arm. "And I think she's talking to Kimball," Frank said, and started to stand up.

Joe shook his head. "Like she would be talking to that jackass."

"No, really."

They stood up, and Nancy glanced over at Ned. "So why don't we get out there," she said, nodding to the dance floor. At least if they were dancing, they wouldn't be making a beeline for the suspect. She glanced over at Bess and George, who pushed their chairs back.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ned teased her.

The dance floor in front of the stage was crowded, and it took Joe and Frank a lot of maneuvering to get over to Dominique. Nancy kept an eye on their progress as Ned took her into his arms.

Although as soon as she was wrapped in his embrace, it was hard to remember anything else.

"I think they've got it under control," Ned murmured, and Nancy gazed up at him. When their gazes met, she felt her heart rise a little. When they were dancing, when they were like this, it was hard to remember anything else, even her cases.

His hands were still in entirely respectable position, as they moved together. "Yeah," she murmured. She glanced over at Bess and George, who were dancing together. "Bess was really hoping that Joe wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her," Nancy said quietly, a little sadly. "And then he runs over there at the first sight of Dominique."

Ned rubbed his palm in a reassuring circle on her back. "I told him what'd happen if he hurts her," Ned said. "So did George."

Nancy gaped for a second. "You did not."

"I did so."

She looked up at him. "You're really great, you know that?"

Ned pulled her a little closer to him, and she came willingly. Their bodies were pressed tight, and her lashes lowered a little.

"Mmm," Ned murmured. "You look like I could take you behind one of those big potted plants over there and find out what you're wearing under that dress."

"It's not much," she told him point-blank, gazing at him through her lashes, and Ned's grip on her tightened a little. Her heels put their hips almost on level, and when she deliberately brushed her hips against his, he shivered.

Then he sighed. "If we keep... doing this, I'm not going to last _at all_."

"Well, we can't have that," Nancy sighed back, but she was smiling.

* * *

><p>By the time Joe reached Dominique, Kimball—if it had been Kimball at all—had disappeared. Joe made a subtle hand gesture to his brother, and Frank faded into the crowd.<p>

Joe didn't find it at all difficult to give Dominique a warm smile. "It's definitely nice to see you here," he said.

She returned his smile, but he still saw that faint watchfulness in her eyes. "Same to you. Here with your wife?"

Joe glanced over his shoulder at Bess, although he didn't need the reminder of what this conversation was probably costing him, as far as she was concerned. "Yes," he said. "And you? I think I recognized your date—?"

"Oh, he was not my date. Just a fellow tourist asking for directions."

"Really," Joe said, keeping the smile in place, but letting it fade from his eyes.

"Yes," she said. Then she appeared to make up her mind about something. "And since I am... unencumbered, would you care to dance?"

Joe fought the urge to glance over his shoulder at Bess again. "Not sure my wife would like that much," he said, with genuine apology in his voice.

"One dance," she coaxed him, touching his shoulder.

Joe knew he was fucking weak. He had barely given her a half-nod of acceptance when the two of them were moving with easy grace into the crowd.

Dominique drew close to him, her face near his ear. "I believe someone we both know is responsible for my being here," she said very quietly, all trace of an accent gone.

Joe moved so he could glance into her eyes, giving her another faint nod.

"Just don't blow my cover. We don't know how many eyes he has here, so act natural. Any leads?"

Joe barely moved his lips as he murmured, "I don't suppose you had any space to stow an ID in that dress."

Much less a gun, Joe thought. She wore a skintight yellow gown that set off her complexion perfectly, and made her hair and eyes stand out all the more.

Dominique sighed. "I suppose we should all be cautious."

Joe nodded. "No real leads yet, but I might have something tomorrow," he told her. "Exchange numbers?"

She shook her head. "Too dangerous. I'll be in contact with you if we find out anything, but for now, let's just..."

"Keep doing what we're doing," he nodded.

Dominique nodded in Bess's direction. "So you must have some connections, to dig up a fake wife at a moment's notice."

"Who said she's fake?" Joe said lightly. "She's a good friend."

"But she's not a spy."

"Not really," Joe admitted. "Why?"

"Because from the look on her face," Dominique said, gazing over Joe's shoulder, "she's very into her cover identity. I would go clear the air, but that'd mean jeopardizing my own. So, until we meet again... _Cooper_."

Joe nodded to her as the music ended and she left his arms. He had to take a long breath and square his shoulders before he headed over to Bess, who was dancing with Ned. Joe raised his eyebrows, glancing over at Nancy—and, yes. Frank was dancing with her. Joe could feel how tense Ned was when he gently tapped him on the shoulder, asking to cut in.

"So you decided to start without me?" Joe asked once Ned relinquished his grip on Bess, flashing her a grin.

Her answering grin was brief. "You looked busy."

He offered his arms and she stepped into them. "Let's head over that way," he said, nodding in Frank and Nancy's direction. "You okay?"

Bess nodded slowly, twice. "Just being stupid," she muttered.

"Speaking of," Joe said, shrugging in Nancy and Frank's direction. Bess snickered.

"He said he wanted to talk about the case."

"Sure," Joe drawled, just to see Bess's eyes glimmer in amusement. "Which, by the way, is all I was just doing with Dominique."

"Oh." Bess looked up at him.

As soon as they were close enough, Joe got Nancy and Frank's attention and filled them in. "So she's working with us... or at least on our side."

Frank nodded. "You trust her?"

Joe thought about it. "I think if she was lying and just trying to find out what we know, she would have jumped at the chance to compare notes and plant some false leads."

"Unless she's being smart."

Ned, who had George in his arms, came close to the group. "Anything earth-shattering?"

Frank shrugged. "Doesn't sound like it."

George glanced between Ned and Frank, letting her arms fall from around her best friend's boyfriend. "Okay, so, let's let these lovebirds get back to whatever they were doing," she said, casting a significant gaze at Frank.

Nancy smiled at Frank. "Thanks for the dance," she said. When Ned's arm slipped around her waist, she moved to him as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and in the space of a moment their bodies were pressed tight together, her arms up around his neck, her head on his shoulder. No one would ever question that they were totally in love.

Frank and George moved off together, Frank laughing at something George was saying, and Joe put a few steps between himself and Bess, and Nancy and Ned. Joe tightened his arms around Bess's waist, and while Bess didn't melt against him the way Nancy was draped against Ned, she did slide her arms up around Joe's neck.

"Seriously. You okay?"

She nodded a few times, then tipped her head back, her blue-eyed gaze meeting his. "_You_ okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Sorry you didn't get to dance with her as long as you wanted?"

Joe made a face. Even though Bess's voice was neutral, he could tell she was tense. "I did," he told her, and very gently trailed his fingertips a few inches up and down her spine. "And now I want to dance with you."

Her lashes lowered for a moment, and she was so close he could feel the warmth of her through her dress. "Look, I don't know if I... if I've been misreading signals or reading more into what's going on... seeing the way _they_," she tipped her head in Nancy and Ned's direction, "have been is maybe giving me the wrong idea. I know you said you didn't... want to..."

Joe waited for her to trail off, then brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "I've had a few bad experiences," he said quietly. "A few nights I can't remember. I didn't want that for you."

"Mmm." She nodded. "Well, I'm really sober tonight. Like, incredibly sober."

"I noticed," Joe said, his gaze steady on hers.

Bess waited a beat. Then her lips curved up into a very sexy smile.

* * *

><p>George smiled up at Frank. "We're breaking the trend," she told him.<p>

Frank glanced over at his brother and Bess, then at Nancy and Ned. The couples were definitely selling the hell out of their cover marriages. Nancy and Ned moved with the familiarity of the thousand other dances they'd shared, and Bess and Joe were gazing intently into each other's eyes.

The sight put a little twist into George's belly. She didn't really judge Joe for his hit-it-and-quit-it philosophy; as long as the girl was aware of it going in, whatever worked between them was their business.

But she knew Bess, had known Bess their entire lives, and Bess fell _hard_. Soon—maybe already—nothing she or Nancy or Ned said would divert Bess from this. Especially if she and Joe took the step they hadn't the night before.

A glance up at Frank told George that even if he wasn't sharing her train of thought, he was aware of it.

"Joe's a good guy."

Frank responded to the slight question at the end of George's voice. "He is," Frank confirmed. His hand was warm at George's hip, and oh, it had been too long since she had gone out to dance like this. It wasn't Frank specifically; it was the fact that he was a guy, and being so close to Nancy and Ned when they were like this was putting a faint buzz of something like desire under her skin.

George sighed. "I hope so."

Frank chuckled. "He can be an idiot sometimes, but his heart's in the right place."

"Under his ribcage?" George retorted, raising an eyebrow.

The band kicked into a faster song and Frank stepped back, waving his fists in the air in time with the beat. It was one of the most ridiculous things George had ever seen, and she had to smother a cackle of glee under her palm. "Come on!" Frank beckoned her, and she threw herself into it, playfully bumping her hip against his.

George had to admit that she could see what Nancy had seen in Frank, what she probably still did see. He was quick, intelligent, and he could be intense, but he had a great sense of humor. And he was easy on the eyes. If George wasn't aching for someone else's arms, she would probably be all sweaty palms and nervous giggling right now. By the end of the dance Frank had her breathless with laughter, and her dark eyes shone as they met his.

"You're not half bad—Carter."

"Not half bad yourself," he said with an easy grin.

Her smile faded, but only a little. "Missing Callie?" she said, very quietly.

Frank's grin became a smaller smile. "Yeah," he admitted. "So much. You?"

"Yeah, I miss Callie _so much _too," George said teasingly. "No... but yeah, there is someone back home. Oh, the things I do for her," she sighed, shrugging in Nancy's direction. "I could be in front of a roaring fire in Colorado right now, snuggled up tight with him while the snow falls outside. Instead? Here we are, dancing while some crazy guy makes plans."

"Hey. It's up to you to cross—Nikki. When she gets that look in her eye..." Frank chuckled. "And besides, did I say how awesome you've been over the past couple of days? You have some mad skills—_Elizabeth._"

George gave him a little mock bow. "Still feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but at the reminder of his wound she saw him cringe a little. "But I'd love some water. I think I might sit this one out, unless you'll be crushed."

George tilted her head. "I'll just have to sob quietly to myself," she told him. "But I think I'll manage."

Frank headed back to the table and George walked over to Joe and Bess. "Hey," she said, and Bess glanced over at her, her blue eyes low-lidded, her body pressed up against Joe's. "I have to go powder my nose or whatever."

Joe chuckled as Bess shot him an apologetic glance, and the cousins maneuvered through the crowd toward the bathroom. In front of the mirror Bess took a paper towel and blotted her glowing face.

"How are you two doing?" George asked, pretending to check her mascara.

"Good," Bess said, grinning. "_Really_ good."

George sighed inside. "Definitely looks like it. ...So you, you feel good about this."

"Good about putting this lingerie to good use?" Bess's eyes sparkled wickedly.

George patted her cousin's shoulder. "Okay," she said warily.

Bess's smile faltered as her gaze met George's in the mirror. "Are you... what? What's wrong?"

George put a reassuring smile on her face. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just... want you to know that if he hurts you, you come tell me."

Bess shook her head. "Oh, he's not going to hurt me. He isn't."

"We've both seen the way he is," George said, and didn't elaborate. Because they had, so many times.

Bess shrugged a little. "Yeah. I... I know. But it's not going to be like that."

"What if he thinks it is," George said quietly.

"He doesn't." Bess shot a sideways glance at her. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll get him to sign something before we rip each other's clothes off."

"A preconjugal contract."

Bess giggled. "No looking at other girls or I have the right to scratch his eyes out."

"No Facebook stalking allowed."

"Speak for yourself," Bess said, and snorted. "Speaking of, how is... how's he doing?"

"Good," George said neutrally. "Well, I mean, not as good as _you two_, of course, but he's good."

Bess put her arm around George's waist and gave her a squeeze. "You know what you are due for tonight?" she asked, and when George shook her head, she continued. "Getting that guy out there drunk and screwing his brains out."

"Well, A, no, and B, can you imagine how fucking awkward it would be at breakfast tomorrow?"

"The fact that you're even _thinking_ about B," Bess said, her eyes sparkling, "means you've thought about it."

"It's all these damn cooties the four of you are putting all over everything," George replied with a growl. "_You're_ unattached. _I_ don't like having 'Guess what happened when I was overseas' talks when I get back to the States. Unlike you two."

Bess stuck out her tongue. "Spoilsport."

George made a choked noise of disbelief. "Look," she said, sticking out her own tongue in return. "Let's make a deal. You stop playing Barbie with my life and you can pick out my lingerie when I get home."

Bess clapped. "Anything?"

"_Almost_ anything," George told her. "I don't want Jon screaming in horror when he sees it."

"No," Bess agreed soberly. "You want him trying to rip it off you. With his teeth."

"Yeah," George sighed in agreement, although she felt a little internal shiver at the thought. She didn't really mind that idea at all.


	11. Chapter 11

"Nan!"

Nancy raised her head an inch off the pillow, one eye open. "Mmm?" she said muzzily, sweeping her hair out of her face. She was naked, Ned was naked beside her, and their clothes were all over the floor. Perfect for their cover, but she hadn't exactly expected anyone to come into their room when they were like this.

Bess was peeking around the door. "I'm sorry. You were asleep."

"Was," Nancy replied, with a huge yawn. "What's up?"

Bess looked down. "I just wanted to chat."

"Oh." Nancy glanced at the alarm clock. "Uh, give me ten minutes." Ned stirred beside her. "Make that fifteen."

Bess smirked as she went back to her room.

"Fuck," Ned groaned, his voice thick with exhaustion. "What time is it?"

"Seven," Nancy groaned, and buried her face in the pillow for a moment. "Ugh. I better get in the shower."

"Me too," Ned said, and squeezed her side.

Seventeen minutes and one particularly pleasant session in the shower later, Nancy exited her room. Bess smiled at her. "George was just getting back from the gym, she should be out any second," Bess said.

Nancy smothered another yawn. "That's good. So..."

"Let's wait for her."

"Oh, honey, considering how loud you two were, I'm sure she already knows whatever you're about to tell us."

"Really?" Bess replied, arching an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"That you two fucked like rabbits last night."

George stepped out of the opposite suite, running a hand through her still-damp hair. "Okay, Bess...?"

"Let's go get a cup of coffee."

The breakfast buffet in the hotel restaurant was mostly assembled, and the girls sat down with coffee, toast, and fruit. Bess was practically vibrating with impatience when they sat down. "So, Joe and I... decided to... date."

George almost choked on her coffee. "You did _what_?"

"That's..." Nancy furrowed her brow. "That's really good, Bess. That's what you wanted?"

Bess glanced between her cousin and her other best friend. "What do you mean, is that what I wanted? Of course that's... I mean, do you think I just wanted to sleep with him?"

George raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, kinda," she admitted. "How far is it between Bayport and River Heights? Hang on—it's not just that you two are dating while we're on this _trip_, right? Or...?"

"Oh, who cares how far apart we live?" Bess asked, spearing a strawberry half. "And _yes_, of course it'll be after this trip..."

Nancy patted Bess's hand. "Sorry, it's just... Joe never really seemed like a _relationship_ kind of guy. It's nice, though." She glanced at George.

Bess nodded. "It is nice. The sex was hotter, though." Her eyes were gleaming.

Thirty minutes later, after a full recap of the evening's activities, capped off by George's wry "Oh, and I had a fantastic evening, thanks, you two nymphos," the elevator chimed in the lobby, drawing Nancy's attention. Once Susannah was around, George had to act like an assistant again, and Bess couldn't be talking about how she was going to be _dating_ her husband.

Although, Nancy had to admit, generally a couple decided to date _before_ giving each other screamingly intense orgasms.

The first person off the elevator car was Frank, who glanced up and smiled at the three of them.

For a bare moment, Nancy let herself imagine what it would have been like, sharing the intimacy of a fake marriage with Frank. She tried to imagine being comfortable in his arms, dancing with him, pretending to Susannah that the two of them were married. Having him get her coffee and pull back her chair for her and gaze deeply into her eyes. Having him escort her around with his palm warm at the small of her back, bending in close like they were sharing a secret to talk over the case with her—or maybe more than that. There was a time when she would have been traitorously, guiltily delighted by the prospect.

Now, though.

Ned was saying something to Joe as they followed Frank, and then he glanced up, and his eyes met Nancy's.

She wanted him. God help her, they had made love less than an hour ago and she _wanted_ him. She wanted his hand in hers, wanted him close to her, wanted the touch of his breath on her ear. All the misgivings Nancy had about Joe, all the fears she had that Bess's heartbreak was imminent, were all cast into stark relief by the man approaching their table. Ned had been with her through so much, and he'd felt like a part of her for so, so long—so long that she had taken him for granted, when she had only relatively recently realized that she would never, _ever_ find a man like Ned, and that Ned could so easily have any girl he wanted, but he had chosen _her_. Remembering the way she used to flirt with Frank made her feel close to nauseated, now. Imagining Frank as her husband made her stomach quiver with guilt and anxiety. Imagining _Ned_ as her husband—

Nancy shook her head as Ned smiled at her. "Something wrong?"

"No, no," Nancy said, reaching for his hand as he sat down beside her. "Nothing at all wrong."

"Good," Ned murmured, and Nancy felt a shiver trail down her spine at the warmth of his gaze.

Joe detoured to get some coffee, and by the time he reached the table, Bess was already asking about their planned stakeout. Nancy was sure she wasn't imagining the look of relief on Joe's face at their topic. Whatever threats Ned and George had made, they had apparently been good ones. When Joe felt her gaze on him, he looked up, and Nancy gave him a small meaningful smile.

_They aren't the only ones who will be ready to rip you a new one, pal._

Susannah's arrival closed off that potential topic entirely, and Bess, Joe, George, and Frank announced plans to hit the marketplace. Anticipation at recovering her daughter had Susannah jumpy and bright-eyed, and she barely touched her breakfast. Soon Nancy, Ned, and Susannah were out on the pavement, hailing a cab.

"Are you two okay?" Susannah asked, once they were all in the car.

_I could ask you the same, _Nancy thought, while she and Ned exchanged a glance. "Long night," Nancy finally said, with a small smile.

"Yeah," Ned echoed, sliding his arm around Nancy.

Susannah smiled, then glanced down at her guidebook.

Bringing Ned along on her cases was a luxury she didn't often have, now that he was graduated from Emerson and working. She had missed him the day before, and while she knew he was a bit of a distraction for her, she didn't really care.

She touched his knee and found herself idly trailing her fingers against his inner thigh. He made a soft warning sound.

As though a girl couldn't molest her fake husband in front of someone they had known barely a day.

The newsroom seemed even busier when they walked in, and when she came up to receive them, Jamila looked as exhausted as Nancy felt. "Follow me," she told the trio, then walked back down the hallway. "Ms. Yasseen is in a meeting right now, but she should be finished momentarily."

When they walked into Bishara's room, Nancy noticed that the stuffed octopus toy was gone.

"I'll be right back," Jamila said, shooting them an apologetic smile as she strode out of the room.

Nancy sat down uneasily on the edge of one of Bishara's chairs.

"So what if she says she's... I don't know, _not_ a crazy kidnapper?"

Nancy sighed. "I know, I know," she told Ned. "And like I've told _her_, I'm just picking her brain for information she seems unwilling to provide—and I'm _sure_ she knows something."

Susannah nodded, pacing. "I'm sure she does too."

Ned had just opened his mouth to say something when all three of them heard a high-pitched squeal through the connecting door.

Susannah immediately went pale. "Oh my God. That's Leila."

Susannah beat them both to the door, and when she wrenched it open, Nancy saw a man, presumably Darius, sitting next to a little girl in pigtails. The two of them, and Bishara, all glanced up.

"Baby!"

"Mommy!"

Darius immediately stood, knocking his chair over, and swept Laila up in his arms. His dark eyes were intense, and his brows drew together. "Go back to the States," he told Susannah, and he sounded tense, almost angry. "Now. Before anything happens to you."

Then he dashed through the other door.

_Fuck,_ Nancy thought, as Susannah dashed after them. "Stay here," Nancy told Ned. "Find out what she knows." She followed Susannah out to the parking lot. They were just in time to see Darius speed out of the lot in a red sports car.

Susannah beat her fists on her upper thighs. "She was _right there!_" Susannah moaned.

"But we're close," Nancy said, desperately flagging for a cab. "If our luck holds out..."

"It _has_ to," Susannah said firmly.

* * *

><p>"How did it go?" Bess asked. She was sitting at a table outside a cafe, across the street from Azizi's shop, sipping a lemonade. Joe shrugged as he slipped into the seat opposite.<p>

"Piece of cake," Joe said, picking up the coffee Bess had ordered for him.

"So now we wait."

Joe nodded. "You look really nice today."

"Thanks," Bess said, glancing down at her outfit. "You look good too."

For a moment they just sat, gazing across at the storefront.

"So," Bess said, idly stirring her drink. "So... we should probably talk about what... 'being together' means."

"As in...?"

"As in, we're exclusive? Or..."

Joe glanced over at Bess. "I don't know how you do it, but I look at it this way, we're not engaged. You meet somebody and sparks fly, then sparks fly. I just want to know if someone else is in the mix."

"Yeah," Bess agreed. "And that we're both safe. Every time."

Joe nodded. "Last thing I need is _that_ to worry about."

"How do you feel about holidays?"

"Well, if I make it back to the States in time, I'm going to tear through half a turkey before anyone can catch me," Joe joked. "What kind of holidays are you talking about?"

"Anniversaries, each other's birthdays...?"

Joe shrugged. "You want the whole nine yards? We can do the whole nine yards, or whatever."

Bess propped her chin on her hand. "So what exactly _is_ important to you?"

Joe tilted his head. "Being _good_ together. Having fun together. I don't know. It's that spark, and it's either there or it isn't."

"But the spark is just the beginning," Bess pointed out. "It's just what shows you should give things a try. But that doesn't really _mean_ anything."

Joe took another sip of his coffee, but brought the cup away from his lips when a man walked into the store. They watched the door intently until he emerged a short time later, stuffing something small into his pocket.

Joe picked up his cell phone. "You getting this?"

"We're on it," Frank replied. "You guys want to stay here in case anything else happens?"

"Sure," Joe said, glancing over at Bess. "Call if you get in over your head, okay?"

"Same to you, little brother," Frank advised with a short chuckle.

Joe hung up the phone. "Let's do this another way," he said. "So what do _you_ think 'being together' means?"

Bess's blue eyes were keen on him for a moment. "I don't know," she murmured. "I know what it's always meant _before_, but I've never dated a detective before."

"How much adventure are you up for?"

"Well, I know I may _seem_ like this ultra-competent jetsetting assistant investigator, but I like the _after_ part," she admitted. "The part with the bottle of champagne and a nice dress and just _breathing_."

Joe chuckled. "That's the _worst_ part," he told her. "When the case is over and you're just waiting for the next one? Ugh."

Bess smiled. "So what does Callie do?"

Joe shrugged. "She helps out sometimes, but more often, she stays home—and I think that's where Frank wants her. Out of danger, out of the line of fire. A lot of our cases..." He sobered. "Well, we deal with a lot of scary people, and..."

He didn't have to say her name.

"I understand," she said quietly.

Joe glanced across the street at the store to avoid seeing the sympathy in her eyes. "Bess... do you? _Can_ you? It almost killed me to lose her, and I can't even imagine how awful it would be to lose you. To lose someone else I care about." He clenched his jaw hard.

After a moment, Bess touched his hand. "Tell me about her," she said softly.

Joe turned his head and met her gaze. "Really? You don't... you don't know?"

Bess shrugged. "I know a little, and... if it hurts too much to talk about it..."

"It always will," Joe said, and his fingers tightened on Bess's.

* * *

><p>"This is the part I <em>hate<em>," George groaned.

Frank glanced over at her, bemused. "And how many fights have you been in since we got here?"

"Oh, that part is _great._" George stretched her long legs and yawned. "Sitting on my ass waiting for a drop? Give me a good knife fight any day."

George and Frank had trailed the man after he left Azizi's shop, across town to the Hotel Nadr. Thankfully the street wasn't entirely devoid of cabs, so if he did run out of the place, they had a fighting chance of keeping up with him.

"Why this place, I wonder?" George mused aloud. "Think maybe Kimball is staying here?"

She glanced over at Frank, who tilted his head. "Well then. You up for some recon later? Maybe a little French maid uniform?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"You are _spoken for_, sir," George laughed, giving his shoulder a playful shove. "Besides, Bess and Nancy usually play the French maid card." She shot him a quick glance. "Oh hell. Shouldn't have said that, huh."

"No, no. It's good. Might be useful later." He chuckled.

"Hey." George sat up straighter. "That him?"

"Yep."

They watched, very casually, as the man they were trailing walked out of the hotel. Then he sat down on a bench outside the entrance and started smoking a cigarette.

George wrinkled her nose. "Great. He's a bad guy _and_ he smokes."

"That's how you can _tell_ he's a bad guy."

He showed no sign of leaving, so Frank left George watching—and grumbling about it—and went inside. "Hi," Frank greeted the girl at the desk with a wide smile. "I'm here to meet a business associate? He's tall, gray hair..."

The clerk responded when Frank was about halfway through his description of Kimball. "Oh, sir, are you sure it was today?"

"Well, to be honest, we were supposed to meet yesterday, and his secretary said he was going to reschedule—oh no. No." Frank ran a hand through his hair. "Oh man, she _swore_ they were going to reschedule!"

The clerk gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry. He checked out about half an hour ago."

"I _just_ missed him? My boss is going to kill me!" Frank whipped out his cell and pretended to place a call, thinning his lips as he mimed reaching voicemail. "And of _course_ his secretary isn't picking up _now!_ My life is over."

The clerk shook her head. "I'm really sorry."

"Look..." Frank put his palms flat on the counter. "He didn't, by chance, mention where he was going, did he? There are maybe seven different things on the itinerary for the next week, and..."

The clerk glanced over her shoulder, then leaned forward a little. "I _think_ I heard him say he was heading to Aswan."

"Thank you _so, so_ much," Frank said, favoring her with a wide, charming smile. "You are a _lifesaver_!"

* * *

><p>The longer the cab sat still, the more impatient Susannah seemed to become. Nancy wasn't that far behind her. The traffic was remarkably heavy around them, and Nancy was pretty sure they hadn't moved at all in at least three minutes.<p>

"What is _taking_ so long?" Susannah exclaimed, beating her fists on her thighs.

The cab driver made a vague apologetic gesture. "So sorry."

Nancy pulled out her cell phone and called Ned. "Hey babe," she said when he picked up. "Any luck?"

"Bishara _swears_ that he just showed up out of the blue," Ned sighed.

"Just this morning. Coincidentally."

"Well, it is awfully convenient," Ned agreed. "But no, I don't think so. I think she's known where he was for a few days. She thought she was doing the right thing when she said she hadn't seen him. Apparently he thinks he's in danger. Or something."

"From Susannah?" Susannah glanced over at Nancy, and Nancy made a dismissive gesture. "Because of Leila?"

"I didn't get that impression from Bishara, but then, she has a great poker face."

"You better have kept your eyes on that poker face _only_, mister," Nancy said sternly.

Ned chuckled. "Yes, ma'am. Caught him yet?"

"We're stuck in traffic," Nancy groaned. "I don't even have any idea where we are, but if you want to meet us back at the hotel, that's fine. Thanks for talking to her."

"No problem," Ned said. "Hey, go ahead and catch this guy, okay? You and I have some sleeping in to catch up on."

"We'll sleep when we've resolved—everything," she said. "Besides, you sure it's sleep you want?"

"Sleep so we can rest up and have plenty of energy for the rest of our honeymoon."

"That sounds about right," Nancy chuckled. "Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

Nancy stretched and looked behind the cab once she had hung up the phone. She saw no sign of the red sports car—

"Hey," Nancy murmured. "Susannah, doesn't that look like the yellow car that was parked in front of Hanif's apartment?"

"Yeah," Susannah said, after she turned to look behind them. "I think so."

Nancy glanced up at the cab driver, who was inching forward. "Where are all these people going?" she asked. "Do you know?"

"Airport," the cabbie said.

Susannah let out a loud wail. "Is there a side road? Some way to get there faster?" she begged quickly. "Please! It is literally life and death that we find that red car!"

"I am sorry, miss," the cabbie said, as he turned on his signal to move into the next lane. "I will do the best I can."

Susannah burst impatiently out of the cab as soon as they reached the airport. Nancy took a few seconds to pay off the cab driver, then rushed after her. Susannah was frantic, her panicked gaze searching the room for any sign of Darius or her daughter.

Nancy glanced around too. With any luck, Darius hadn't used one of the electronic check-in kiosks. "Susannah," Nancy said urgently, "let's ask around at the desks. Say that your husband forgot his passport—or that he has yours, that would make more sense—and you desperately need to find him. Or something."

Susannah nodded. "Okay. Wow, you're good at this."

Nancy just smiled at her and they split up. Progress at the counters was agonizingly slow, as families laden with stacks of baggage laboriously queued up. It took Nancy ten minutes to make it to the front of one line, and she almost screamed in frustration when the clerk told her she hadn't seen Darius.

"Becca! _Rebecca!"_

It took Nancy a minute to remember her cover name, and she glanced over at Susannah, who was frantically pointing toward the security checkpoint. "I see them!"

Nancy rushed over and saw Darius and Leila at the head of the security line. The only way they could go through that line was with plane tickets, and Nancy didn't exactly relish the thought of spending money on a trip she would never take.

An announcement came over the loudspeaker and was repeated in English. "Attention, passengers for Aswan. We are going to begin preboarding in two minutes."

Darius glanced up, clearly interested in the message, and swept Leila into his arms so he could walk faster.

"Susannah," Nancy said warningly, when she saw her trying to figure out a way to get through the protective rope. Getting tackled by security guards and taken in for questioning would do neither of them any good. "We'll get them. Let's just find the clerk who helped them and confirm that's where they would be going."

It took another four tries, but eventually Susannah struck pay dirt and talked to the clerk who remembered both Leila and Darius. They were indeed headed to Aswan, on a one-way ticket.

At the final boarding call, Susannah was visibly upset. "Any idea why he would want to go to Aswan?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know," Susannah moaned. "I don't even know what's _in_ Aswan."

Nancy nodded briskly. "Well, that's all right. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

She picked up the phone and called Ned. "Hey babe," she greeted him.

"You're on the way back, everything settled?" he asked, teasing her.

"I wish. Look, we have to get to Aswan. If—uh, Nikki, wants to stay here with Cooper, that's up to her, but I'd like you to come with me. Mind calling Nikki and getting her to pack my suitcase? And you can just meet us at the airport."

"Sure. So we're talking extended trip?"

"Depends," Nancy said. "I have no idea what we'll find there, but it's worth a shot."

"Be careful, babe."

"'Careful' is my middle name."

Ned chuckled. "Your middle name is 'danger,'" he corrected her.

Nancy laughed aloud before hanging up the phone and glancing over at Susannah.

"So," Nancy said, "hope you brought your AmEx."

They were two spaces back from the head of the line when Nancy's phone rang. "Hello?"

"We got a lead on Kimball," Frank said breathlessly. "We think he's on his way to Aswan. We're headed back to the hotel to get packed—"

"Damn," Nancy said quietly. "Susannah and I are already at the airport. We'll go ahead and get tickets for everyone."

"You're at the airport?"

"Yeah, Darius and Leila are on their way to Aswan too, apparently."

"That's a strange coincidence," Frank said slowly.

"Isn't it?" Nancy said. "Getting a bad feeling about this?"

"This whole thing's been fucked from the start," Frank pointed out. "Okay, meet you there. And keep a lookout for Kimball."

"Sure thing." Nancy hung up and glanced over at Susannah. "Well, the rest of the entourage will be joining us shortly."

Susannah flashed her a weak smile. "I can't believe we were so close."

Nancy put a comforting arm over Susannah's shoulders. "We'll find her," she promised quietly. "We'll find her."


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter has been edited for content but does contain an adult situation.**

* * *

><p>Bess boarded the plane with her arm linked through Joe's. She had to admit, traveling in style like this, first-class accommodations and seats on planes, was definitely agreeing with her. Flying coach back to Chicago was going to utterly suck.<p>

Nancy and Ned were already seated, luggage stowed. Their hands were joined on the armrest between them. Nancy's eyes were glowing, and anyone who passed would probably mistake them for newlyweds; only those who knew Nancy well would recognize that gleam in her eye for what it was: the exhilaration of tracking down a new clue.

Bess leaned down as Joe began wrestling Bess's copious carry-ons into the overhead bins. "I'm keeping an eye on you two," she said softly, narrowing her gaze. Then she looked meaningfully at the front lavatory. "Keep your hands to yourselves."

"Same to you," Nancy retorted.

Ned reached for the wrapped blanket provided by the airline. "Hmm. Guess we'll just have to get creative, babe."

"Good thing I'm wearing a skirt..."

Bess covertly flipped her friend off. George and Frank were in their seats, both staring intently at their cell phones. "Any interesting messages?" Bess asked her cousin, a wicked gleam in her eye. George absently flipped her off without even looking up, then snickered.

Joe sighed, apologizing as a fellow passenger cast him a dirty glance. "How the _hell_ did you pack this much?" he murmured to Bess.

"This?" Bess said, gesturing at her face and ensemble. "Is not as effortless as it may appear."

Joe glanced at their tickets, chuckling. "Okay. Milady, here we are."

Bess beamed at him as he stood aside, letting her take the window seat. She cast one last glance behind her, finding Susannah back in coach—

A woman with a blunt-cut auburn bob was staring at Bess. She glanced away as soon as Bess turned, but it was obvious. Next to her, Bess recognized Dominique, her head down as she flipped through a magazine.

Bess couldn't help it. She reached for Joe, squeezing his arm as she moved into her seat.

"You okay?"

"Your other girlfriend is apparently on this same flight."

Joe immediately glanced back, then tried to act casual. Bess covered a snicker. "Hmm," he said. "I suddenly feel the need to stretch my legs."

"The captain has turned on the fasten-seatbelts sign," a flight attendant intoned. "We will be taking off soon, so please find your seats and strap in as soon as possible."

Bess knew she shouldn't be happy that Joe couldn't go back and consult with the woman who was most likely their government liaison. The very hot and clearly interested-in-him government liaison. She wondered who the auburn-haired woman was, though.

"Oh. Probably her partner on this case," Joe murmured, when Bess verbalized the question.

"Why couldn't she have been partnered up with, like, Channing Tatum or something," Bess grumbled, and Joe laughed at her.

"Hey," he said, leaning in, touching her hand. Bess didn't bother fighting the pleased shiver that slid up her spine; he was her cover husband, after all, and above that, he was... well, her probationary boyfriend. "She's great and everything, but she isn't _you._"

Bess fluttered her lashes at him. "My, sir," she said. "Play your cards right and maybe we'll do that thing I told—our brother- and sister-in-law not to do."

Joe wrinkled his nose. "How about I promise to do something very... nice, to you later, instead."

"So you promise."

Joe pressed his mouth against her ear. "Name it, love," he said, and kissed her earlobe.

Bess closed her eyes. "Oh, I will," she whispered. "I definitely will."

* * *

><p>Between them, Joe and Dominique were able to contrive an exchange of notes, but Dominique wasn't able to tell him much. He didn't know if she was holding something back intentionally or not, but he had a feeling she probably was. He would, in her place. She took the time to comment on Bess again, too.<p>

Joe almost told Bess, but he didn't relish the thought of a catfight breaking out on the plane.

He was her cover husband, though, and while they were on the way through the airport, Bess tugged him into a souvenir shop, and the rest of the group followed. Susannah was with them, so Joe was attentive to Bess—and, while he told himself that he would be as attentive even if Susannah weren't with them, a small part of him wasn't quite sure.

It had been so long since he hadn't just wanted to enjoy a few inhibition-free nights with some hot leggy girl. Talking about Iola had made him think of it again, the thrill and danger of letting himself fall for someone, the chance of that terrible heartbreak again. Considering how often Bess helped on Nancy's cases, it was a miracle that she hadn't been kidnapped, concussed, or attacked _more_ often.

Isabelle brushed by him in the store, and Joe found another note in his pocket. The name and address of a hotel.

When they were sorting into cabs outside, Joe handed Bess the shopping bag he had collected at the store. "Thought you might like this."

Bess's blue eyes lit up as she glanced up at him, and she let out a happy squeal when she brought the Cleopatra doll out of the bag. "Oh, sweetheart! That was so thoughtful of you," she said, and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

Joe smiled. Well, he could get used to that.

"It's wearing almost as much makeup as you," George said under her breath, winking at Joe. "No wonder he thought you'd like it."

"Oh, you," Bess said in exasperation. "Ignore her. She's just jealous."

Joe chuckled. "She's amazing at hiding it."

* * *

><p>Ned woke up next to his girlfriend naked, and stretched. The city was awake outside their window, but the drapes were pulled and the early sunlight was dimmed. He stumbled tiredly to the bathroom, and when he came back to bed Nancy was rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She vanished into the bathroom as well, as Ned settled back under the covers.<p>

He was perfectly sober, but exhausted; he wasn't entirely over the jetlag, and he wasn't entirely sure exactly when they had parted for the last time the night before, loose-limbed and sated, snuggling into each other.

It was addicting, this easy familiarity between them. After their case, the first morning he woke alone in his bed—oh, he dreaded that.

Nancy came back to bed and when Ned pulled the covers back for her, she slid onto the mattress and then straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips.

"Hey."

"Hi," Ned murmured, reaching for her.

They hadn't taken a suite at this hotel, so there was no risk of anyone walking through the connecting door. He stroked her, caressed her, nipped at her flesh gently, then harder, as she made love to him. Ned grabbed her at the waist, and when her blue eyes danced as they met his, he flipped her onto her back.

They heard a knock at the door. "Hey, sleepyheads! Breakfast!"

"Got to hop in the shower!" Ned called. "Be there in a little while!"

George chuckled. "Glad someone's getting lucky on this trip," she said, slightly more quietly, through the door.

After, Ned collapsed to the bed, closing his eyes. "We have _got_ to do that again sometime soon," he told her, once he was able to speak again, and she brushed her lips against his.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you so much," he replied, running a hand over her hair. "Oh my _God_, babe, you looked so fucking sexy."

Nancy pulled back a little to look him in the eye, a small proud smile on her face. "I... I did?"

Ned nodded. "I like it when you drive."

She giggled, slowly lifting herself off him. "Well, if we didn't have a bomb plot to foil and a little girl to find..."

She got to her feet and Ned followed. She was searching her luggage for some clean underwear when Ned put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned around.

"Do you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"If we weren't on a case..."

She smiled at him. "If we weren't on a case," she said, "well, we wouldn't really be _here_, would we."

Ned nodded. "But... I don't know. It's been so long since we've had some time to ourselves, to just take a weekend and spend the whole thing in bed..."

She took out a set in cream lace, then cupped his cheek. "Then we will," she said, holding his gaze.

"I'll hold you to that."

"I hope you do."

They slipped into the shower together, and Ned knew they were supposed to hurry, but watching her tip her face back in the spray, Ned thought he was just going to lose it, right there.

_I really could get used to this._

"Wash my back for me?"

Ned took the bar of soap and built a lather. "And if we're twenty minutes late for breakfast, it'll be _your_ fault."

"Well, we could always try to beat our best time," she teased him.

Ned managed to restrain himself, and they made it downstairs in near record time. Bess, George, and Susannah were waiting for them. "Where's—"

Bess rolled her eyes. "Doing some research," she drawled. "Trying to track down someone Cooper remembers from before."

_Kimball._ Nancy nodded, glancing at the spread, then over at the buffet. "Let me get something to eat..."

"Go get us some coffee and I'll make you a plate."

"How about you get the coffee and _I'll_ get the plates," Nancy returned. "Anything you definitely want?"

"Uh, all the bacon they have?"

After the five of them were full and happily caffeinated, Nancy turned to Susannah. "Okay. I know you said Darius's family is basically just Hanif, but does he have an old school friend, maybe a distant relative who lives near here?"

Susannah pulled out her address book. "There's only one possibility I can think of," she said, flipping through the pages. "Darius has a cousin, her name's Tabia Fakhry. She lives on the edge of the desert. Maybe he's come here to see her, since obviously staying with Bishara wasn't safe enough." Susannah sighed and shook her head. "What he said yesterday—if things are so dangerous, and he wants me to leave, why doesn't he just give me Leila? Why the hell would he have _her_ here with him, if they're in so much trouble?"

Nancy shook her head. "I don't know," she said quietly.

"It doesn't make any sense," Bess pitched in. "Well, want to meet back here for lunch?"

"You don't want to come with?"

"I have to make sure my husband eats at some point today," Bess said, dumping another artificial sweetener packet into her coffee. "Besides, let's be honest. If it comes down to a fistfight, I'm worse than useless."

George perked up. "Are we expecting that?"

Susannah shook her head, then shrugged. "You know, I would have sworn that Darius wouldn't hurt a fly. But _now_? I don't really know him at all, anymore."

* * *

><p>The sight of the Sahara through the cab windows was breathtaking. Nancy's hand was joined to Ned's between their thighs, and every now and then his fingers squeezed hers and Nancy felt a soft shiver tremble down her spine.<p>

The longer they spent together, the harder it was to imagine spending time without him. She would almost call it some kind of terrible codependence, but that wasn't it at all. She knew she would be perfectly fine away from him, but at his touch, the warmth of his gaze, she felt something almost exactly like joy suffuse her.

_The case._ Nancy shook her head, glancing over at Susannah. "So have you met—Tabia?" Nancy asked, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation of Darius's cousin's name.

Susannah shook her head. "I hope she's friendly," Susannah said hesitantly. "Although what I really wish is that when she opens the door, Leila just runs into my arms and this can all be _over_."

Nancy and Ned were holding hands even when Susannah knocked on Tabia's door, then stood back, biting her lip. The driving wind made it hard for Nancy to hear herself think, and Susannah was shifting her weight impatiently when Tabia finally answered the door.

"Tabia?" Susannah asked, hanging back.

"I am she," the woman confirmed. She was small, dressed in a traditional outfit, and her gaze flicked nervously between the three of them.

"We're here to ask you a few questions about Darius," Nancy said, taking over when Susannah seemed to be at a loss for words. "May we come in?"

Tabia hesitated for a moment before she moved back, allowing them to pass. Her small house was clean, the floor decorated with rag rugs. Nancy listened carefully, but she didn't hear Leila or Darius.

The four of them sat down at the kitchen table, and Tabia offered them cups of strong tea. Nancy noticed that Tabia's gaze was often drawn to Ned; she wondered whether it was anything about Ned, or just some general nervousness about guys.

"Darius and I were married," Susannah began, idly moving her teacup on the table. "We have a little girl; her name is Leila. I'm trying to find them, because Darius has brought her here, and I want to take her home. Can you help me, Tabia?"

Tabia shook her head, peering down into her teacup. "I am sorry. But I lost touch with Darius when he left for America."

Susannah nodded. "I'm sure that was—not intentional, on his part."

Tabia's mouth tightened a little. "If he had been able to visit more often," she said, and sighed.

"Let me show you a picture of her," Susannah pressed, reaching for her wallet. Nancy watched Tabia's face carefully as Susannah flashed a photo. "She's my daughter. She's such a happy, bright little girl, and I love her so much." Susannah's voice was starting to shake.

"I am sorry," Tabia repeated, keeping her gaze on her cup once she ripped it away from the photo. "I cannot help you."

Nancy's hand tightened into a fist on the table, and she sighed. "Tabia?" she said. "We know Darius came here, and there's every possibility it was to see you. Whatever trouble he's in, he needs help. He's in danger and he has an innocent little girl with him, wherever he goes. It would be a _terrible_ thing, for your cousin's daughter to get caught in some kind of crossfire. Are you sure there's _nothing_ you can tell us? Because, Tabia, all we want is to make sure that little girl goes home safely."

Tabia sighed, her mouth tightening again, and the four of them fell silent. The ticking of the kitchen clock and the howl of the wind, driving sand against the side of the house, worked to fill the silence.

"You know she's in danger," Ned tried. "Please, don't put her in more danger by not telling us what's going on."

Tabia sighed again. "I... have seen him."

"When?" Susannah asked immediately, leaning forward.

"Late last night. He's very scared. And he is not trying to keep your daughter away from you. That isn't what this is about." Tabia looked down, clearly struggling to find the words to express exactly what she meant. "He has a problem he must fix, and he's hoping that he can blend in among the other tourists here."

"But he's not here now."

Tabia shook her head. "He left very early."

"Did he tell you where he was going?"

Tabia looked down. "Luxor," she murmured. "He and Leila were on the way to Luxor."

* * *

><p>"Get a <em>room<em>, you two."

Bess pulled away from Joe long enough to retort, "We _have_ a room," before Joe claimed her lips in another kiss.

George snorted as she tapped a few keys on her laptop. "Well, then, _go _to it. We have shit to do that doesn't involve you two sucking face."

Bess could barely hear her cousin. Joe had his fingers buried in her hair and he was doing incredibly wicked things with his tongue while they kissed.

Then Frank, who had been studiously ignoring what his brother and Bess were doing, let out a soft cry. "_Yes!_"

Joe pulled back, and Bess almost moaned aloud in disappointment. He was an _amazing_ kisser. "What'd you get?"

"I had a hunch. I can't find anything listed under _Kimball's_ name, but there's no doubt that's an alias. There _is_ a commercial property I'm finding under _Mahfouz's_ name, though."

"Is it the right Mahfouz?"

Frank shrugged. "I don't know, but do you have a better idea?"

The four of them glanced at each other, shrugging. "We should probably go before Nancy's off on her wild goose chase again," George said. "Well, I mean you guys. I need to make a phone call."

Joe glanced at Bess. "I'd feel a lot safer if you stayed here," he told her. "Mahfouz has no problem punching women in the face."

Bess touched her cheek gingerly. "Guess I'll just have to stay here and harass George, then."

George flipped her cousin off. "We could go for a quick run," she said.

"There _is_ no such thing," Bess sighed dramatically, as she touched Joe's hand. "Especially not with you." Her blue eyes met Joe's. "Be careful, okay? I don't want you two ending up in jail again. And how about you _duck_ this time. If you get another bruise, your whole _face_ is going to be purple."

"Yes, dear," Joe drawled irreverently. "Try not to get in any trouble while we're gone. And if you do leave the hotel, please take George with you."

Bess pressed her lips to Joe's one last time. "Now go find that bomb so we can get some Thanksgiving dinner before next year."

* * *

><p>"You sure this is it?"<p>

Frank glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. "Yep. The address is right."

The building looked way too innocent. It was on the bank of the river, kind of shabby, but moderately large. If it were full of explosives and bomb materials, Frank would expect some obvious security—

"Ahh," Frank said aloud as a guard walked around the corner of the building. Frank and Joe ducked behind a convenient pickup truck, keeping watch until the clearly bored guard rounded the corner again.

The brothers glanced at each other, and with an unspoken agreement they set off at a run toward the building. Frank had his pick at the ready, and he made quick work of the lock; he had always been more patient than Joe when it came to such things, more even-tempered.

The warehouse was gloomy inside. Frank saw a drop cord for a lightbulb, but didn't want to risk the guard seeing it. Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight.

A bird logo. All the boxes were marked with the same bird logo.

Frank gingerly lifted the lid on the nearest box. The components inside were— It took a moment for him to identify them, in the weak light. They weren't bomb components, though, just assorted electrical equipment.

Just in case the boxes were mostly decoys, he and Joe made a quick search, and came up with nothing. Frustration was bitter on Frank's tongue. This had been their best lead, and now they were practically back at square one. Even if Kimball and Mahfouz _had_ made it to Aswan the day before, they could be anywhere or on their way _to_ anywhere by now.

Joe had just opened his mouth when they heard the door creak. The guard stepped inside and Frank and Joe ducked behind a shelf, holding their breath, the dust tickling their noses.

"Yes. The car will need to meet the steamer at four. Yes." The guard took a step, then paused, backing up a little. "Do not mistake the time. Very important."

Joe and Frank glanced at each other. _Steamship_? Joe mouthed, and Frank nodded. He glanced at his watch. They didn't have much time.

The guard ended the call, slotting the phone back into his pocket, then glanced around the gloomy interior of the warehouse. Frank hoped that he was so desultory about his job that he wouldn't notice the fingerstreaked dust on the box lids, or the footprints they hadn't yet managed to scuff away.

Frank was just beginning to think that maybe they were home free when the guard said, "Hey! You there! Stop!"


	13. Chapter 13

Frank and Joe glanced at each other. One security guard.

The guard reached for a radio clipped to his uniform. "This is—"

Joe launched himself through the intervening space and threw a punch directly at the guard's jaw before he could call for backup.

Then the taser came out.

Given everything—their cover identity as rich newlyweds, the overzealous security check, the police interest in their movements—Frank had somehow overlooked the need to pack a fucking _taser._ He managed to arch out of the way, but the weapon barely caught Joe, who let out a howl of surprise.

Frank grasped the guard's wrist and slammed it into a nearby shelf, trying to make him lose his grip. Joe gasped his breath back and directed a kick at the guard's midsection, which sent him flailing into another shelf. Boxes tumbled down from above, rattling heavily as they struck the concrete floor of the warehouse.

Frank had to give the guard credit; initially Frank had been skeptical that anything of value would be in a warehouse guarded by a single man. He was fit though, and a vicious fighter. By the end of their struggle, a barely-healed split lip was busted again, Joe was rubbing his side and wincing, and Frank's knuckles were bruised.

Frank picked up the guard's cell, ignoring the man's fierce glare, then muttered a curse. The screen had been cracked during their fight. He had been hoping to find a number for Kimball, just in case they were able to find the equipment to triangulate cell signal. Kimball seemed paranoid enough to use no-name mobiles, though.

Joe glanced around the warehouse. Scattered bits of electrical components littered the floor, and boxes were tilted drunkenly onto their sides, spilling their contents. He shrugged at Frank, then headed for the door.

"So there's a steamer arriving at four."

Frank nodded. "And we have to be there to meet it. With any luck, this will all be over with before the sun sets."

Joe snorted. "Don't tease me," he said.

* * *

><p>"Just when I was starting to like this place." Bess looked up from her suitcase. "You think it's weird that Darius <em>and<em> Kimball are both on the way to Luxor?"

Frank and Joe had called upon leaving the riverfront. They had checked all the schedules, hoping to find the ship Kimball would be arriving on, but had discovered that the only ship meeting all the qualifications was the _Queen of the Nile_, departing at four p.m. for, of course, Luxor.

Nancy shrugged. "It does sound like a very strange coincidence," she commented, and stretched.

Bess picked up the Cleopatra doll, then glanced up at Nancy.

"What is it?" Nancy prompted, when Bess opened and closed her mouth without saying anything.

Bess shrugged. "I'm hoping that we find Darius and Leila—and Kimball, of course—soon—and that we don't."

Nancy nodded, leaning over to prop her head up on an arm of the couch, cradled by her elbow. "I know what you mean. Don't get me wrong, if we miss Hannah's Thanksgiving dinner, it will be a crime against nature, but I wouldn't mind us spending some more time here after the case is over."

"But we won't." Bess snorted when Nancy closed her eyes. "What, late night, Drew?"

"Mmm." Nancy chuckled, her eyes still closed. "I'm not sure when I got to bed last night."

"Oh, I know exactly when you got to bed," Bess said archly. "Five minutes after you and Ned went in there. It's when you went to _sleep_—"

"Yeah, I have no idea." Nancy smothered a yawn with her hand. "Soon I'm going to crash like crazy."

"Not unless you tell Ned to sleep on the couch. No—in a separate room."

Nancy stuck out her tongue and flipped Bess off. "Well, then I might actually get some _sleep_," she mused aloud.

Bess chuckled.

"So you two still doing okay?" Nancy murmured, forcing herself to open her eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't start talking about it as soon as I walked in."

"We're supposed to be packing," Bess pointed out. "Plus Ned's gonna walk in any second."

Nancy swept her arm in a clumsy, all-encompassing gesture. "He doesn't care," Nancy declared.

"So he also doesn't care that I know what he likes to do to you in bed?"

Nancy giggled. "I don't know. But I have to tell _someone_, you know?"

"Yeah." Bess sat down on her bed. "Joe is _great_. He takes his time, and it's not all about him getting his, you know?"

"Definitely," Nancy said. "So it's funny that it took you two so long to get together."

Bess shrugged. "I guess it just took him and me both being free," she said. "Or maybe we were just so sick of seeing you two carrying on like you were, without being able to take out the frustration on someone else."

Nancy smiled. "What? We're just awesome at maintaining our cover."

"For what?" Bess pointed out. "Kimball—whatever the fuck his name is—knows who we are. There _is_ no kidnapping plot. All we have to do is look couple-y in public—which is what we're already doing. What you two would be doing regardless."

"Well, there's Susannah," Nancy said.

"Who barely questioned us being in adjoining suites at the last hotel."

Nancy's brow furrowed. "Okay, fine," she said. "I'm gonna go get a soda and try to wake up. You want something?"

"Sure."

Nancy had only been gone a moment when Bess answered a knock at the door. Ned was pulling one of the luggage carts, and maneuvered it into the room.

"Okay, which of your forty-seven suitcases is ready?"

Bess wrinkled her nose at Ned. "One day I'm gonna pack exactly _one_ suitcase," she swore, dumping another stack of clothes into a rolling bag. "And on _that_ day, all of you will _shut up_."

Ned laughed, sitting down on the couch. "So where's Nan?"

"Getting a drink. Seems _someone_ kept her up pretty late last night. Don't know what _you'd_ know about that."

"Hey, at least we didn't try to see who was louder last night."

Bess giggled. "That was fun."

"Need any help?"

"Nah," Bess waved off Ned's desultory offer. "I'm good. Almost done."

She came back out of the bathroom with her toiletry kit, to see Ned slumping on the sofa. "Hey, Casanova," Bess called, and Ned slowly opened his eyes. "You two trying to beat the world record for sex on vacation, or what?"

Ned stretched. "It's nice to have all this time alone," he admitted. "It's all this damn _investigating_ that we're doing when we should be sleeping..."

"Yeah, not the crazy sex." Bess looked down at her suitcase as she was zipping it up. "So, Ned... what's it like, dating a detective?"

"Oh, I could write a book," Ned groaned.

"Do you regret it?"

Ned looked up as a knock sounded at the door, and he pulled himself to his feet to answer it. "Would it be easier to be with someone else? Sure," he said, glancing through the peephole. He opened the door. "Would it be anywhere as amazing? No," he said, as Nancy walked through.

"What wouldn't be as amazing?"

"Dating someone else," Ned told Nancy, sliding his arm around her waist. She took a swig of her soda, and he kissed her temple, then took the drink out of her hand.

"You better not date anyone else," she told him, as he took a sip of her drink.

"So you were saying..." Bess prompted Ned.

"Don't ever expect to actually get through a date," he said, handing the drink back to Nancy. "Don't expect to see an entire movie or sleep through the night. Reservations? Pssssh."

"You say that like Nan and I haven't been friends for, what, _ever_, now?" Bess hauled her zipped suitcase off the bed.

"But, the thing is," Ned said, "it's what makes her happy. And it may drive me nuts, but I want her happy more than anything. I might go crazy every time she chases down a lead, but that's what she loves. As for me, I hate that we _ever_ have to leave the damn hotel."

"Aww." Nancy gave Ned a kiss on the cheek. "_You_ make me happy."

Ned flashed her a grin. "You're so cute when you lie."

"You _do _make me happy," she defended herself. "And mysteries make me happy. And that thing you do with your tongue—"

"Uh!" Bess gestured. "Well, I mean, unless you want to tell Joe about it."

George knocked on the door, and Nancy let her in. "What's up?"

"You packed?"

"Yeah, and Susannah said she'd be in the lobby in five minutes, so."

Nancy and Bess glanced at each other. "Think we should just stop lying to her?" Nancy said slowly.

"You mean make it so I can flip Bess off in public? Sign me up," George said with a grin.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Ned shrugged, but his eyes were intent on Nancy. "What do you want to do?"

Bess looked at the two of them, saw something unspoken pass between them.

"Well, we're still traveling on those passports," George pointed out.

"Letting Susannah in on what we're doing doesn't mean we stop," Bess pointed out. "And... I don't know."

George glanced at the other three members of the group. "You really don't want to stop this, huh," she said, with an incredulous look.

Ned had taken Nancy's hand.

"Well, it makes things... easier..."

George raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You mean how you and Joe _started_ your relationship acting like you were married? Yeah, _that's_ not complicated at all."

"Ugh." Bess cast a pleading glance at Nancy. "It's... I don't know. I just know that we're gonna get drunk and slip in front of Susannah and it'll be really fucking awkward, and..."

The other three gradually nodded. "Okay," George said. "So we get drunk tonight and tell her."

"Or, you know, just, tell her," Ned countered.

"Hey. I've been the fucking DD basically this entire trip. I don't care what the rest of you do, but if there's alcohol on that damn steamer, _I_ for one am going to get fucked up."

* * *

><p>The rooms on board the steamer were tiny. Once the seven of them were on board, Susannah went back to her cabin to get ready for dinner, while the rest of them all crowded into Frank's room. Frank, for one, was relieved that he finally had his own living space, even if it was only for half a day.<p>

"Okay," he said. "We have to find Kimball. He's got to be on board, him or someone else working for him."

Bess opened her mouth. Joe touched her hand. She closed her mouth again and twirled a long lock of blonde hair around her finger, glancing up.

"So we're on the lookout for shifty guys carrying signs that say 'I'm here for the bomb plot and the free rum'?" George asked, her hand half-raised.

"Exactly!" Bess exploded. "I mean, _what_?"

"Well, the easiest thing for us to do is find a passenger list," Frank said, irritated.

"But how will we know, because there's no way he's traveling under the same fake name he gave us." George crossed her arms.

"That's where Joe comes in." Frank nodded at his brother. "We can run it through the database, or we can get in touch with Dominique and Isabelle, see if any of the names pop."

Bess glanced up at Frank. "They're on board?"

Frank shrugged. "They've followed us everywhere else, so why not?"

"And we're sure we trust them."

Frank glanced up and saw Ned snake an arm around Nancy's waist, holding her to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder, her eyelids drifting low. He felt a sudden pang of longing for Callie, and glanced away.

In the meantime, Joe and Bess had faced off. Her brow was slightly furrowed, and her arms were crossed, but Frank had never heard her raise her voice. She was the kind of girl who would scream for help and run instead of standing to fight, but that made her an excellent lookout, and it was exactly the reason he tried not to make Joe lookout. In some ways, Bess and Joe were almost exactly the same, but in better ways, they complemented each other well.

Frank really, _really_ wanted to hear Callie's voice. He was so glad that, while she was one hundred and ten percent behind him, she wasn't going to put herself in danger. That was what he needed. Not the distraction of having to protect himself _and_ the woman he loved when things got tough on a case.

Ned would wade right into the thick of it, with Nancy. Frank knew that. He would be at her side, _had_ been at her side, for so long that her _without_ him was strange. Nancy was the most unique woman Frank had ever met—and Ned was a great guy—but together, they became something Frank couldn't even describe, couldn't define.

Frank and Nancy together were two forces of nature. Ned and Nancy together were something else entirely.

Ned cupped his hand around Nancy's hip and for the barest second Frank remembered those glances, those stolen moments, those too-brief kisses he had shared with Nancy. A small irresistible part of him had wanted that back, just for a little while, wanted her to be playing _his_ wife instead of Ned's.

But she had never been his.

At least she was in good hands. And at least the sight of Callie, when Frank got home, wouldn't crush him with guilt.

George stood up, over the deceptively quiet, escalating argument between her cousin and Joe. "For want of anything better to do, what do we need to do to get the passenger list?"

"Well, we can try it the old-school way," Frank said. "Seduce a maid and get it off her."

On Frank's significant look, Joe flipped his brother off. "Yeah, uh, _you_ are the one who isn't pretending he's married."

"I'm sure Frank can handle it," Nancy said, then lazily opened her blue eyes. "Unless he's a little rusty, and needs some practice."

"I don't—"

"Hey, _I'm_ playing married too," Nancy said, off Ned's look. "George?"

"_Playing_ married," George repeated. "I've got a guy back home, remember? One who isn't nearly as forgiving as the rest of you. Besides, didn't we agree that we're not doing this anymore?"

"Not doing what?" Frank asked.

Nancy swept a hand through her reddish-gold hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. "Certain—members of our group have decided that, since we're inevitably going to slip, we should let Susannah in on the facts sooner rather than later."

"But we _are_ keeping up the cover," Frank insisted. "Our passports—"

"Yeah, yeah," George said, nodding. "Our passports. Yeah. But Susannah's not going to tell anyone. And it doesn't mean we'll be acting any different in public."

"And you think she won't tell anyone?" Frank asked severely.

Bess, clearly still upset, threw her hands up in the air. "And what's at stake, Hardy?"

"Deportation?" Frank said.

"Prison time, maybe?" Joe added. "I don't know, but I don't _ever_ want to get arrested in Egypt again."

"You have to admit," Nancy said, "our arrangements here haven't exactly been conventional." She twisted her engagement and wedding rings around on her finger.

Frank acknowledged her with a nod. "And we're how late for dinner at this point?"

"But we still haven't decided on a plan!" George sounded exasperated.

"Why rush?" Frank pointed out. "If we're telling Susannah the truth, then we've got all of dinner to plan it."

* * *

><p>"So you're..."<p>

"Detectives," Nancy confirmed quietly, glancing around the table. "Well, I am, and Joe and Frank here are."

"And... Nikki, and Cole, and Elizabeth...?" Susannah's brow was furrowed.

"This is my boyfriend Ned," Nancy said.

"My name's Bess. Short for Elizabeth."

Susannah's eyebrows rose even higher when George volunteered her name.

"Okay, detectives, maybe, but your name is _George_?"

The rest of the table burst into laughter. Nancy had to admit, she felt relieved. While going undercover was one thing, Susannah wasn't a bad person, wasn't someone she needed to deceive, and doing so had gotten under her skin. It felt like an actual palpable weight off her chest, to admit the truth.

By the time all the laughter died down, and George had insisted that her name was, indeed, George, Susannah looked slightly less at sea. "So why the whole honeymoon thing? Which, now that I think about it, was ridiculous. Who the hell goes on their honeymoon with their _brother_ in an adjoining suite?"

"It was going to be easier," Frank protested. "With our—original plan."

Susannah opened her mouth and Bess held up a hand. "Don't. Don't ask about it. Just trust me. Yeah, that was pretty spectacularly stupid."

"Hey," Frank protested, tossing his straw paper at Bess.

Susannah nodded. "Well, thanks for helping me. I'm sure you didn't come here just for that."

Frank shook his head. "No. There's... well, we're trying to track a guy down, the one who put us on this wild goose chase in the first place."

"Wow," Susannah said. "_Detectives_."

"I'm sorry," Nancy put in, "that we didn't tell you immediately. We just... we needed to make sure we could trust you. It's nothing about you."

"Oh, sure," Susannah said. "So... what kinds of cases do you guys usually work on?"

They all tried to keep their voices down, but they couldn't hide their enthusiasm as they told Susannah about their cases. All of them became involved in the retelling, and at one point Joe had gathered all the spare clean forks and was using them to recreate a fight he and Frank had had with a huge group of government agents. By the time he was finished they all laughed, especially George, who was definitely making good on her threat to _not_ serve as the designated sober person of the evening.

"I really lucked out, huh," Susannah said, amazed. "I mean—at first, let me be honest, I thought you were super nice to offer to help, and I didn't really like the idea of going to all those places alone, but... no offense, a trust-fund trophy wife on honeymoon offering to help out when her new husband will actually let her out of his sight? And, my God, you two were _awesome_ at playing that. The rest of it might have been strange but you two were really selling that."

Nancy glanced over at Ned, who was holding her hand on the table. "Oh, they aren't acting," Bess said, propping her chin on the heel of her hand. "This is how they act _all the time,_ when they can get away with it."

Susannah chuckled.

"So we're _not_ selling it?" Joe asked with a half-grin, tossing back the rest of his drink.

"You are," Susannah said slowly. "Just... not the way they are. Like, right now, I can totally imagine him saying that he has to show her something, and then they don't come back..."

The rest of the table turned their gaze on Nancy and Ned, who had the grace to blush. "Well, I _was_ going to see if we could spot the little dipper from here, but now _that's_ ruined," Ned said teasingly.

"Sure you were," George drawled.

"Well, if all of you have so much experience—what should we do when we get to Luxor?" Susannah asked, her eyes bright.

"From what Tabia said, I think we need to hit the tourist spots," Nancy said. "With pictures of Darius and Leila, although we should be careful about that. If he feels like he's in danger, we don't want to get ourselves in the middle of it."

Susannah nodded. "And the guy you're trying to track down is on the ship?"

They nodded simultaneously, except for George, who was signaling to the waiter for another shot. "I wonder why he picked a _steamer_," Susannah sighed. "It's so _slow_. I want to be in Luxor _right now._"

Nancy patted Susannah's back reassuringly. "Darius isn't too far ahead of us."

"He was _really_ not too far ahead of us when he was in the next room," Susannah pointed out with a sigh. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to ruin—well, never mind! You guys aren't even really _on_ your honeymoon."

"Not to mention, this is nowhere near the strangest vacation we've ever had," Bess piped up.

"Really?"

Ned touched Nancy's hand again, leaning in so his mouth was against her ear. Both their plates were mostly clear, and Nancy had to admit that she was starting to feel a little restless. Susannah's reminder about the case wasn't helping her anxiety.

"I want to show you something."

"I'm sure you do," Nancy murmured back with a soft chuckle.

Nancy and Ned excused themselves, and all the attention was back on the story Bess and Joe were telling within seconds. Ned took Nancy's hand and they walked out on deck.

"Wow," Nancy said softly, looking at the bank. A hundred lights winked at them as they passed. Over the sound of the ship, they could hear the city, and when Nancy glanced up, above the haze of the light pollution, the sky was brilliantly clear.

Their steps slowed to a stop and she leaned onto the railing, taking it in. They had been traveling so much since they had arrived that she felt like she had barely seen Egypt at all; that was the problem with most of her cases. She had seen an entire _world_, but only through hotel and cab windows; she had seen so many wonders, but as a blur while she was being chased through them. She wouldn't give the excitement up, not for anything, but just _once_ she wouldn't mind an entire day spent just with her friends, just acting like the normal tourist, the way Darius was hoping he could hide himself and Leila.

And there it was again. She couldn't help it, couldn't turn it off.

Nancy turned around and Ned was gazing at her, and his face softened into a smile.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"They aren't worth it," she told him, sliding her arms up around his neck. "Not worth the breath to say them. I can't wait to get to Luxor, can't wait to finish this case..."

"But?" Ned prompted her, sliding his arms around her waist in return. He turned her slightly and they were moving slowly, to music only in their own heads.

"But I kind of don't want to," she said slowly.

"Oh?" he murmured, and when Nancy gazed into his eyes, she noticed how dilated his pupils were, how intent his gaze was on her face.

"It's not that I don't want to find them," she said softly, "and we _have_ to find out what that nutjob is doing... it's just that I..."

"What," Ned murmured, and his fingertips drifted slowly over the small of her back.

Nancy shivered a little, drawing her gaze from his with some effort. When she caught side of something over Ned's shoulder, her eyes widened. "Oh my God."

Ned's grip tightened on her for a second. "What?"

Nancy's hands dropped from his shoulders, and she stepped away from him. "I think I—"

Ned turned, a half-step behind her as she set off toward the stairway leading to the upper deck.

"What?" Ned asked again, softly.

"Kimball," she said, and Ned picked up the pace, pulling ahead of her. He wanted to get ahead of her, get between her and the danger.

"Where exactly?"

"Going up—"

Ned had just put his hand on the railing when he heard a soft gasp behind him. He turned just in time to see Nancy fall, and was opening his mouth to call out in alarm when he felt a searing pain on the back of his head. He dropped to his knees, clawing at the air, when it was followed by another.

Then there was only darkness.


	14. Chapter 14

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

Nancy blinked, and her face creased in pain as she reached up, gingerly moving her fingertips against the crown of her head. "Fuck," she whispered. "Wow, that hurts." Then her eyes widened as she looked up at Bess. The blonde girl was bent over Nancy's low hospital bed, and Joe was standing beside her. Both of them looked concerned, and a little relieved. "Ned?"

"Over there," Bess said, gesturing at the bed next to Nancy's. Ned was stirring too, although the nurse was already coaxing him to swallow some aspirin. The two of them were in the steamer's small infirmary. "He's okay. Well, okay-ish. So did you two just get so excited at the idea of a few minutes to yourselves that you slammed your heads together in your hurry?"

"Yeah, totally," Nancy said sarcastically, then turned her head, slowly. "Did you see who did this?" she asked Ned, as the nurse hurried over to her.

"We were... you thought you saw Kimball."

"Oh. Yeah." Nancy's brow furrowed as she rubbed her temple. "But that means it wasn't him who hit us."

"Probably Mahfouz is on board too," Joe commented.

"Probably?"

"Yeah," Joe said mildly. "There are two hundred and fifty people on board, and we don't have a passenger list. Not yet, anyway. I mean, we _could_ just start knocking on all the doors..."

Bess clucked her tongue. "I can think of some much more interesting ways to spend my time."

"So can I," Ned muttered, as Nancy took her aspirin.

Nancy tried to sit up, and the nurse pushed her back down. "Stay still," she said urgently.

Ned and Nancy glanced at each other again, although Nancy was starting to see double. _Fuck_, her head hurt, and she'd been through this enough times to know she probably had a concussion. "So what's the plan," Nancy said, shooting the nurse a glare when she turned her back, attending to Ned again.

Joe shrugged. "Frank and George are looking into options. In the meantime... I think you two just get to rest up. Slackers," he teased.

Bess elbowed him. "Do you see that egg on the back of her head?" she stage-whispered.

"God, _really_?" Nancy moaned, gingerly touching the back of her head. She sucked in a sharp breath. "So we're close to _something_, huh."

"Yeah, permanent brain damage," Ned muttered.

Nancy stretched out an arm, and Ned met her halfway, clasping her hand in his. The nurse shot them a dirty glance.

The corner of Bess's mouth turned up. "Look, we'll be back to check on you two—unless they've kicked you out for defiling hospital property."

Ned flipped her off, then acted innocent when the nurse glanced over and clucked her tongue at him. "So," he said sweetly, "you had somewhere to be?"

Nancy groaned.

Ned glanced over. "You okay?"

"Your skull's made of solid steel, remember?" she said, cupping her palm over her forehead. "I'm not so lucky."

"Yeah, that adamantium you're made of is a real bitch." He squeezed her hand. "Look, be careful, you two. Whoever it was—and who the hell _else _would it be, unless someone else Nan's pissed off is on board—he knows we're here and clearly he's not afraid to..."

"Play whack-a-mole with our heads," Joe finished with a nod. He looped an arm around Bess's waist. "I won't let the little lady out of my sight."

Nancy uncovered her eyes and gave a knowing chuckle. "I'm sure you won't, Hardy. So let's try to track these sons of bitches down before they decide to start throwing us over the side."

* * *

><p>Joe had been pretty sure that their dinner had given Bess time to cool down, after their argument about Dominique. He could tell she was still a little angry, though. While she easily took her hand in his when he reached for it, she wasn't making her usual comments about finding their way back to the room to do unspeakably dirty things to each other.<p>

"There's a show up on deck in about an hour," Joe pointed out, reading one of the schedules posted outside the infirmary. "Want to check it out?"

Bess shrugged. "Sure."

A group of passengers dressed for dinner, clearly more than a little drunk, walked by them. Joe felt a light brush against his hip and glanced up, brow furrowed, but no one was looking back apologetically.

"Bess..."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"And what is it exactly that you don't want to talk about?" Joe tapped his pocket, making sure his wallet was still there. That had happened to him more times than he liked to remember, skillful pickpockets trying to get something important off him.

Bess folded her arms. "Look, I'm sure she's here somewhere, and... I guess... I don't know. I've seen the way she looks at you."

Joe pressed his lips together for a second. "I can't stop people from looking at me."

"I _know_ that," Bess said, an edge in her voice. "But—"

"Do you think—what? What exactly do you think is going to happen?"

"Based on past experience?" Bess asked, arching an eyebrow. "She'll crook her finger and you'll come running."

"Yeah, because we've been dating for so long that you _know_ me."

"I've _seen_ you in action for so long that yeah, I _do_ know you," she retorted.

"You say that like you've been a saint all this time too."

Bess let out a frustrated sigh. "I haven't—but when I'm with a guy, I'm _with_ a guy."

"And you're not sure if it's like that for me."

She shrugged, looking miserable. "I know that Nancy meets guys on cases and has a—_had_," she corrected herself. "She _had_ a crisis of faith like every other one, because some hot guy would turn on the charm and she'd tell me and George that oh, she didn't mean it, never meant to hurt Ned..."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Like, she was seriously cheating on Ned?"

Bess waved a hand. "Oh, not like that. Back when she'd freak out if he even tried to steal second. She'd make out with a guy and it would be like, 'Oh, shit, what have I done...'"

"And you're equating that with—"

"This is _Nancy_," Bess said. "It hasn't been like that since she finally gave it up to Ned, but I know how it is, on cases, meeting all these hot people who are desperately interested in you..."

By then they were out on deck together, and Joe took her hand. They dropped their voices as another crowd moved by. "Believe me, I am fully aware," he said.

"And she never meant to hurt him, but that didn't seem to stop her." Bess still looked miserable.

"Who is it you're really worried about?" Joe asked. "Me, or _you_? Or maybe Nancy," he mused.

"It's gonna be all girls like Dominique," Bess said bitterly. "Tall and thin and great hair and then you'll see me and say..."

Joe tipped his head so he could meet her eyes; her chin was practically against her chest. "Say what, Bess."

"That I'm a fat cow, next to someone like her. God knows I hear it enough." She dashed a tear from her darkened lashes and her fingertip came away stained with mascara.

"Hey," Joe said softly. "Sweetheart... you are _gorgeous_. Fucking gorgeous. Who the hell has told you differently?"

Bess shrugged, making a little pained sound. "I've seen my damn reflection," she said. "And George is always bugging me to get out of the house..."

"Uh, from everything I've seen about George, that's probably because that's what _she_ wants to be doing," Joe pointed out. "Hell, I like going for a run sometimes too. If that's not what you want to do, that's fine. Do you mean she's really told you that you're..."

Joe trailed off and Bess dashed away another tear. "No," she admitted reluctantly. "It's just, if I could lose those last five pounds..."

"So lose five pounds," he shrugged. "If that'd make you happy. But you don't need to, babe. Not at all."

Bess gave him a small tearstreaked smile. "That's what they say, too."

"So if you don't trust them, trust me." He leaned down and put his mouth against her ear. "Remember, I don't go to bed with ugly girls, and if you want, we can go back to our room and I can show you just how turned on you get me... again."

Bess giggled, then composed her face into something relatively serious again. "So you think you can solve any problem with sex."

"It's worked for me so far," Joe shrugged. "Well, I think sex with _you_ is definitely the solution to this problem. Babe, believe it or not, I _do_ have just a little willpower. Enough to not indiscriminately fuck every girl I see, anyway. Dessert, not so much."

"Well, that's _one_ thing we have in common."

"See?" Joe dashed another tear off her cheek. "Not my fault if Drew couldn't keep it in her pants."

Bess smacked his shoulder lightly. "Wrong metaphor," she said. "And, ew."

He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her lightly. "So what do you say about heading back to the room?"

"That we should probably check with Frank and George first," Bess said reluctantly. "Maybe they've found a lead. Plus, I kinda don't want to be out here if Kimball and mini-Hulk are wandering around concussing people."

"Oh, and then, you know, if nothing else comes up, then we _might_ do it," Joe teased her.

"Didn't you say something about a show?" she pointed out, tilting her head.

"Oh, baby, I'll give you a show," he promised, kissing the corner of her mouth.

They made their way back to Frank's room, and Bess had just lifted her fist to knock when they heard "Son of a _bitch_!" through the door. Bess chuckled and tapped on the door.

George jerked it open, then gestured for them to come inside. "So did you find them?"

"Yeah, on deck. Passed out and surrounded by a bunch of tourists." Joe sat down on the bed. "They're in the infirmary now, getting treated, but it's probably just mild concussion."

"They were attacked? Did they see who did it?"

"Apparently Nancy thought she saw Kimball right before."

Frank glanced up from his laptop. "But she wasn't sure?"

"Uh, does she _have_ to be sure?" Bess pointed out. "Who the hell else would have the motive to do this?"

Frank shrugged. "Darius, maybe?"

Bess and George exchanged a glance. "He didn't... seem like that kind of guy, from what I've heard about him," Bess said slowly. "But once we get the passenger list, we'll know for sure."

"And how close are we to that?" Joe asked, tipping his head back into his interlaced fingers.

Frank shot his brother a dirty glance. "Their wi-fi has some pretty strong password protection on it."

"So go seduce it out of a chambermaid. I've heard that's supposed to be easy."

The four of them exchanged a glance, and then George burst into slightly hysterical laughter. The rest of them followed.

Joe's stomach rumbled, once they had trailed off. "Hmm," he said, looking down at it.

"Surely you aren't still hungry," Bess said.

"I think I'm the opposite," he admitted. "Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that second dessert. I better grab some antacids."

"Get me some too, if you don't mind," Frank said, without looking up from his computer. "I took the last of mine after lunch."

"Be right back," Joe said, giving Bess a lingering kiss on the cheek, then headed for their room. He reached into his pocket for the key—

And encountered a small slip of paper he knew hadn't been there before.

So the brush he had felt earlier had been a brush pass.

He read the note and, for a second, considered going back for Bess—but, as she had pointed out, it was better for her to be out of sight, with Mahfouz and Kimball around. And part of him just didn't want to have the argument, he knew.

He didn't consider not going at all, though.

He was only waiting a moment when Dominique walked into the lounge on the upper deck. She wore a pair of skintight jeans and a form-fitting buttercup-yellow shirt, and her every movement seemed to be carefully calculated to draw the admiring gaze of every man near her. His gaze was drawn to her hips as she walked toward him.

It was true, that he had met more than his fair share of gorgeous girls, doing his job. And she definitely was gorgeous. And Bess was waiting for him.

And every girl seemed uncomplicated, from far away. And Dominique was putting off all the right signals.

"How are your friends?"

"They'll be okay," Joe murmured, as they gazed out at the shore, side by side. "That why you wanted to meet?"

She shook her head. "The name Desjardins ring a bell with you?"

The French name slid easily off her tongue. Joe shrugged. "Can't say that it does, but I'm better with faces," he admitted. "Something going on?"

Dominique shrugged. "He's suspected in a few terrorist attacks," she murmured. "So of course we're not exactly happy to see him here. He takes precedent, though. If he's here to meet with your guys, we'll stay on him, but if he isn't, we'll need to divide and conquer. If Desjardins is mixed up in it..." She sighed.

"But you still don't know _why._"

"If we knew why, he'd be in custody right now." She turned around and leaned against the railing, arching a little. "I take it you have no leads."

"Hey," Joe said defensively, then lowered his voice when a few gazes turned in their direction. "We're working on it. We're a little handicapped, though, without a passenger list."

"And what exactly are you planning on doing once you get a passenger list?" Dominique pointed out. "Knocking on his door?"

"What is it with all the negativity?" Joe asked. "We have... things we can do. And if we can get him on the boat, at least then he won't have a chance to do whatever it is that he's planning. Unless it's on the boat," Joe mused, and shivered.

"I think it would've happened by now, if it were going to," Dominique said wryly, and Joe glanced at her. Her expression was bemused.

"Maybe," he agreed absently. "Did either of you see for sure who attacked Nancy and Ned?"

"Not exactly, but I'd bet my next paycheck it was them."

"Look... I know you guys aren't on us twenty-four-seven or whatever, but if you get the chance..." Joe trailed off. "Bess—the blonde. If we're in some kind of danger, get her out of it. The rest of us can pretty much fend for ourselves, but her..."

"Noted," Dominique said, tilting her head. "And Susannah?"

"Well, her, too, of course," Joe said with a wave.

"Mmm."

Joe risked another glance. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, putting an overly innocent look on her face. "Just... going to keep that in mind."

* * *

><p>George flexed her cramping fingers and looked over at Frank. She was trying to help him, but she'd never needed to break into a wi-fi network before, and their progress was slow. Bess was dividing her attention between the door and her cell phone.<p>

Frank's brow creased as his stomach emitted a low rumble. "Ugh. How long has he been gone?"

"Too long," Bess said, almost immediately. Her blue eyes were wide and troubled. "I think we should go look for him."

Frank glanced at his watch. "He's probably fine," he said idly. "Maybe he got a lead. But if I don't get some antacids..."

"I'll go," George said, sighing as she stood up. She stretched her long, slender frame, trying to work the kinks out of her neck. "I need to move around some anyway. I'll be shocked if I haven't gained five pounds just staring at a damn computer screen so much this trip."

"There's some in my luggage," Bess said, standing to dig the key out of her pocket. "Can you go and just make sure Joe's not in there? God, what if Mahfouz saw him and—tossed him overboard or something—"

"_Bess_," George said firmly, taking the key and then grabbing her cousin's shoulders. "It's _Joe._ He's _fine._ Also, he can swim."

"But Nancy and Ned—"

George shook her head. "I'll be right back, and if I don't see him, we'll go find him, okay?"

Bess nodded. "Okay."

On the way to the room, George took out her cell and placed a call. "Hey gorgeous," Jon answered.

"Hey," George said, unable to stop herself from grinning. The sound of his voice sent a warm flush all the way down to her toes. "How are you holding up?"

"Terribly," Jon said dramatically. "How dare you go to another continent and leave me here with emails to keep me warm at night?"

"I'd much rather you were here, believe me," she told him, pulling out her key. Inside, she flipped on the light, then found Bess's suitcase. "Wish me luck. I'm about to search Bess's luggage."

"Are you looking for a needle in a haystack?"

"No—well, I hope not. It's just weird to have to dig through a bunch of condoms and know exactly what'll be done with them."

"That's not really weird at all," Jon corrected her, a smile in his voice. "Speaking of... that, you think you'll be able to visit next month?"

George blushed slightly. "I don't know," she teased him. "Got anything that might sweeten the deal?"

"Oh, do I," he said in a low voice, one that went all the way down her spine. "Come on, say you will. Surely Nancy can do without you for a week."

"Well, at least that'll give the bruises time to heal." George found the antacids and slipped them into her pocket, then rezipped Bess's suitcase.

Jon sighed. "I worry about you, Fayne."

"You should be more worried about the other guy," she said lightly. "Plus..."

Her gaze was caught by something at the head of the bed, and her face turned pale.

"Plus what?" Jon prompted her.

"Plus... I hate to say it, but I really have to go," George said, fighting to keep her voice level. "Let's plan on that visit, though. I think I definitely deserve it, after this damn trip. Nancy and Ned are making out all over the place, Joe and Bess are going at each other all the time, and it's _really_ making me miss you."

"That's sweet," Jon said teasingly.

After they said goodbye, George cast a quick glance around the room, her mouth set. The sound of a key in the door startled her, and she turned, already in a fighting stance.

"Hey, hey," Joe said, holding his hands up as he walked in.

George relaxed, pressing a palm to her chest. "Scared me. Where the hell have you been?"

"Ran into someone," he said, then glanced at the head of the bed. "Oh."

"Yeah," George agreed. "We have to tell them."

Joe walked over and looked down. The Cleopatra doll he had bought for Bess was laying there, but her head had been wrenched off. Pinned to the headless body was a note.

_Leave Egypt or you're next._

Joe's hand clenched into a fist. "We better find that fucker soon," he growled. "Because if he touches a damn hair on her head—"

"You'll have to get in line," George told him, shaking her head. "You can beat up whatever's left of him."


	15. Chapter 15

"So you're sure you're okay _now_." Callie's voice was concerned.

"I sure as hell hope so," Frank said, carefully bundling another cord as he sandwiched his cell between his shoulder and his ear. "Ugh."

Callie sighed. "Finish this up soon," she said. "This is getting way too close for comfort."

"I will. Now go to bed—it has to be incredibly late there."

"It is. But you know I'm not going to sleep well until you're back."

He smiled. "Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

Frank hung up the phone and frowned, then tentatively patted his belly.

The night before had been miserable. Frank, Joe, and Susannah had come down with a mild case of food poisoning, and had spent the night in the infirmary, a few beds down from Nancy and Ned. Bess had been thoroughly freaked out after she had seen the threatening note in her room, and stayed with George in the latter's room. Even though six other passengers had also come down with food poisoning, Frank was inclined to believe that it wasn't a coincidence. Kimball wanted to get them out of the way.

Time was running out.

The seven of them made sure they were first off the steamer. Nancy and Ned were holding hands, Joe and Bess were holding hands, and Susannah, Frank, and George were behind them. When they made it to the dock, they found a good vantage point and took out maps and fussed with luggage, keeping an eye on the disembarking passengers.

Susannah took a bottled soda from her bag, dotting at her face with a tissue. Of the three of them, she had seemed to get the worst case of food poisoning, and she still looked a little pale. "So describe who we're looking for," she said.

"Well, his name's Kimball," Frank began. "Tall, around forty, dark hair but it's going gray. And he has a little triangle-shaped scar on his cheek."

Susannah's eyes widened. "Does he look kind of like a movie star?"

"Like a specific movie star?" Bess asked.

Frank rolled his eyes, focusing on the mass of passengers coming down the dock. They had told Susannah the truth about their identities, and then everything had gone to hell. If it weren't for the fact that Nancy had actually _seen_ this alleged ex-husband—although she hadn't had time to question him, Frank mused—he would wonder if she was a plant.

"I know who he is," Susannah whispered urgently.

Frank turned around quickly. "Oh?"

"That sounds exactly like John Krieger."

Nancy's eyebrows went up. "Your boss? The one who was so understanding about you coming over here?"

"Yeah," Susannah said, nodding slowly. "I mean, how many guys have that scar on their cheek? He was American, right?"

Frank nodded. "He was American. Is American. And what does he do? You said you work for him?"

"He's head of the Aquarius Group in New York," Susannah said, wrapping her arms around her torso. "Oh my God. But I don't understand."

"Aquarius," Joe mused aloud.

"Water," George said. "The Arabic symbol for water on his cufflink. Of course. So he _did_ basically put EvilCo on there for us."

"We just didn't know what we were looking for," Ned chimed in.

Frank turned back to Susannah, keeping an eye on her as he continued to scan the crowd. So many of them were in ballcaps and sunglasses that it was hard to pick out any individual faces. "Is there a work related reason he would be over here? What about Mahfouz?"

Frank described the henchman, but Susannah shrugged. She wasn't placing him as a fellow employee. "The only thing I can think of is that the company is trying to get the contract to explore for water under the Sahara."

"Maybe he's trying to blow up a competitor," Joe said.

"How many other companies would be in the running for that kind of work?"

Susannah shrugged. "I don't really know," she said. "If we had a good wi-fi signal I'd do a search..."

"With any luck we'll catch him now and this'll all be over," Nancy said, shading her eyes as she continued to scan the crowd.

But luck wasn't with them, and they didn't spot Kimball—Krieger—or Mahfouz. As they headed to the taxi stand, Frank turned to Susannah.

"So your ex is over here," he said. "Do you think he might know something about what's going on...?"

"He's not involved," Susannah said defensively. "He wouldn't be involved in something like this."

"Are you sure?" Nancy asked gently. "It sounds like it was pretty out of character for him to kidnap Leila like he did."

"Ugh." Susannah wiped her forehead with the tissue again. "I just can't believe he'd do this," she said quietly. "Maybe he's mad at me, I'll accept that, but to intentionally put Leila in danger? He loves her so much. He just _wouldn't_."

"You have to admit, it would take a huge coincidence to explain why he's here _and_ Kim—Krieger is here," Joe said.

"Maybe Krieger has something on him," Bess said. "And that's the only reason Darius is here."

"But why would he have Leila with him, if Krieger is blackmailing _him_?" Susannah asked.

Nancy shrugged. "It doesn't make much sense," she admitted.

They split into two cabs and headed for a hotel in Luxor. Frank was worried that at any given moment, their money might run out, so he asked about suites.

Nancy tapped his arm. "You think it makes a lot of sense for us to make ourselves sitting ducks?" she asked quietly.

"You think we should split up?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I think three couples and a single are harder to track down than a group of seven."

They compromised and reserved three rooms—Susannah said she was perfectly happy with using the fold-out couch in Frank and George's room, although Frank had a feeling he was the one who would end up on it. Two rooms were on the same floor, with the third on the floor above. Nancy and Ned took that one.

"The rooms will be ready at eleven o'clock," the receptionist informed them. "We may hold your bags if you would like to do some sightseeing before check-in."

They gratefully surrendered their luggage, although Frank was sure to mention that he kept several valuables in his suitcase and needed it to be kept in a secure area. The clerk nodded, and Frank watched with relief as all their luggage was placed behind a locked door. Whether that would do any good, was still up in the air.

The seven of them collapsed onto couches in the sitting area, heavy-eyed and grouchy from the night before.

"Now what?" George asked.

* * *

><p>"Please."<p>

Nancy looked up from the small hand mirror she was using and gave Susannah an apologetic smile. "I just don't think it would be a good idea."

Nancy and Ned had taken a side trip to the hotel's gift shop and were decked out in souvenir t-shirts and jeans. Nancy had her red-gold hair tucked under a ballcap, and Ned wore a pair of ridiculous aviator sunglasses. They looked like oblivious tourists and would stick out like a sore thumb—outside a group of tourists, anyway. While sightseeing, they would fit right in.

"But—"

"If he sees you, he'll run again," Nancy said.

"We just need to talk to him," Ned added. "If we find him there, we can bring them back, and there you go."

Susannah sighed. "I guess. I just wish all this was over."

"It will be, soon," Nancy assured her.

The seven of them were to meet for a late breakfast—none of them had really trusted the food on board the ship once Joe and Frank became sick, and Bess was utterly famished. On the way out, Nancy stopped by the front desk and asked when the next tour bus would be leaving for the Temple of Karnak. The receptionist gave her a schedule, and Nancy turned to see Frank talking to another receptionist.

"Any leads?" Nancy asked, as they headed out to meet the group.

"There are four or five events tonight that he might be planning to hit," Frank said, gesturing with his shoulder at the receptionist. "And that's _tonight_. I don't want to think about tomorrow."

"I think we're getting close, though," Nancy said, as Frank held the door for her. "Ned and I are going to head out to Karnak."

"And we'll divide and conquer on eliminating events for tonight," he said, and she smiled at him as she walked over to Frank.

Bess, for her part, was making sure Joe was always near her. The rest of them were a little more alert than usual; Bess was on Defcon 4. They walked to a nearby café the receptionist had recommended when Bess had asked for "something American-ish."

After her first cup of coffee, Nancy felt halfway human again. "Ned and I have an hour," she said, "before we need to leave. The bus goes to the Mummification Museum, Luxor Museum, Luxor Temple, and Karnak Temple, and we can start with that..."

"Take a lot of water," George advised. "It's a lot of walking, and you don't want to dehydrate."

Nancy nodded. "And everyone else?"

"Well, I have a list of prospects," Frank said, unfolding a sheet of paper. "Susannah, why don't you say if any of these ring a bell."

Susannah listened intently as Frank stumbled through some of the more exotic names. "Oh, here's a good one," he said. "United States Senator Michael Nasser will be speaking at a banquet tonight at the Victoria Hotel."

Susannah's brow wrinkled. "That sounds familiar," she said softly. "I... I can't remember quite why."

"Wasn't he involved in that... hell, what was it," Bess said, looking down at her coffee. "Oh! That thing last month? That talk show host interviewed him and he flew off the handle?"

"Oh, yeah," Susannah said. "Maybe..."

George pointed at the television set in the corner. The reporter was speaking Arabic, but the English subtitles had been turned on. The picture was clear enough, though. A group of angry protesters were gathered in front of a chain-link fence, gesturing and shouting. Some held bold signs.

_These workers in particular are angry at the prospect of further development in the area, citing concerns that resources are already stretched to the breaking point. City planners have been scrambling to keep up with recent growth._

"If Aquarius is interested in development..." George pointed out, and took a sip of her coffee.

"You think Krieger would do something so drastic? Seems like that would just add fuel to the fire. So to speak." Joe idly tapped a sugar packet against his fingers.

"Dude wrenched the head off a doll. I think that qualifies him as a nutjob." Bess shuddered. "Did he seem borderline serial-killer while you were working for him, Susannah?"

Susannah shrugged. "He was fine," she said. "I don't know. Are you totally positive that he's behind... all this?"

"Pretty damn sure," Frank admitted. "And if he's not, I'd love to hear his explanation for why he decided to engage in this elaborate sham just to get us over here."

"So he invited three detectives—" Susannah began.

"Two," Joe corrected her. "Us. Nancy was a bonus."

Nancy gave him a ridiculous grin. "Aww. A _bonus_. You're sweet."

"Anyway," Susannah said with a chuckle. "So he invited two or three people who would be almost _guaranteed_ to try to stop him."

Nancy shrugged. "If the security guy hadn't caught us at the airport, we would have brought—it—through, without anyone the wiser, and then all he had to do was lift it off us once we got here. Make a few attempts on us just to make the whole ransom claim look good, and then we're good; there's no way we would _ever_ have been able to track down the terrorist group, since he made it up."

The waitress brought them their breakfast orders, and Nancy looked with some amusement at her boyfriend's plate. He had opted for practically every meat product on the menu. Nancy had fresh fruit and a cheese omelet made with egg whites.

"Okay," Frank said, when they had all sat back, full of caffeine and breakfast. "We have four possible events tonight, plus that protest they're showing. Joe, want to go check that out?"

"I... let me place a call," Joe said. "Dominique and Isabelle are tracking someone right now, and that might help." He glanced over at Bess, and while her face was suspiciously clear, at least it hadn't turned stormy, and her arms weren't crossed.

"And if we do some relatively intelligent web searches, that'll cut down on all the footwork," George said. "Not that I care about saving on footwork. Bess, want to go for a run after lunch?"

"After _lunch_?" Bess shuddered. "And I have a psychopath after me, remember? I am _not_ going to be bait."

George tilted her head. "So _convenient._"

Bess flipped her off.

"All right, as fun as all this is," Nancy said, pushing her chair back, "Ned and I have a bus to catch."

"Call if you get into any trouble," Bess said.

"You bet." Nancy smiled.

* * *

><p>"Just try to wrap your mind around this."<p>

"Around what?" Nancy asked. She was next to Ned on the bus, and the view from the window was amazing. She had seen pharaohs' tombs in movies and textbooks, but it was something altogether different to see them through a window. The sheer mystery of it all appealed to her, and she had been on enough digs to count herself a very, very amateur archaeologist—she could imagine happily spending a month or two just exploring the Valley of the Kings. She loved decoding hieroglyphs, studying the clues left behind.

And it was all real, and _here_, right in front of her.

Then Ned's breath touched her earlobe, and Nancy briefly closed her eyes.

"We _roleplay_ acting like a normal couple," Ned pointed out.

Nancy glanced over, lifting one eyebrow, but after a moment had to concede his point. They fit right in on the bus with the other tourists, and Ned had his arm around her shoulders. They looked like the newlyweds they were pretending to be, excited at the prospect of seeing the temple, just like everyone else around them.

She chuckled. "So what's your point?"

"Just that." He shrugged. "It's just funny."

"Well, if I were a normal girl, and you were a normal boy..."

"Speak for yourself," Ned teased her.

"We would go take pictures of each other in front of the temple..."

"And then I'd try to talk you into going back to the hotel with me, instead of spending all day out in the hot sun." His expression changed a little. "Especially given yesterday."

Nancy idly reached up to run her fingertips over the back of her head. The bump had lessened considerably, and at least she wasn't seeing double, the way she had been the day before. "Have I said that I'm sorry about that?"

"A few times," Ned said, nodding. "And before that, maybe a hundred. A hundred thousand."

Nancy gave him a half-smile, putting her hand over his. "I wish I could've kept you out of it," she said. "I never want to see you hurt."

"_You_ never want to see _me_ hurt?" he said, incredulous. "Sweetheart, I'd take a hundred concussions to save you from it." He gave a dramatic sigh. "If only you had some safer hobby, like base jumping or explosives testing."

Nancy giggled and gave him a light shove. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you are, too." He put his mouth directly against her ear. "But I really think we need to track this guy down and head back to the hotel, because those hospital beds were rough and I really need you to help me work the kinks out of my back."

"I think you've said before that I have very skilled hands," she said, giving him an innocent look.

"Yeah, and there are a few specific... skills, I have in mind," he growled, and nipped gently at her earlobe.

"Ned," she sighed quietly in protest, even though he was sending glorious shivers trailing down her spine.

The tour guide hurried them all out of the bus. "We have a lot to cover!" she called, herding everyone into a patch of shade. "Many of you should recognize the Karnak Temple Complex. The hypostyle hall has been featured in several movies..."

Nancy was awed by the massive stone pillars, the frieze, the temple, the obelisk. All around them tourists were snapping photos, posing with wide grins, touching ancient stone, ignoring warning signs. Keeping one ear on the tour guide's speech, Nancy thoroughly scanned the crowd, looking for Darius and Leila. The guide led them around the site, and Nancy kept a sharp eye out, but didn't see the man and his little daughter.

She sighed in defeat once they boarded the bus again.

"Hey," Ned told her, patting her shoulder. "It's okay, sweetheart. We have how many sites left?"

"A lot," she sighed. "And he could be at any of them. Or none. Ugh."

"We'll find him," Ned said confidently.

Nancy smiled at him. "You're just saying that because you want me to go back to the hotel with you."

"Well, if you keep acting so tense," Ned said with wide-eyed solemnity, "I will definitely have to help you relax somehow."

"I'll work on that," she told him, and leaned against his shoulder. Those infirmary beds really hadn't been very comfortable at all. "You're more comfortable than what I slept on last night," she mumbled.

"You'll make me blush," he teased her, and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I really do have a good feeling about today."

She smiled, nestling against him. "Me too, but it might just be the company I'm in."

* * *

><p>George came out of the bathroom toweling her hair dry after her shower. She was dressed in a pair of shorts that showed her long, tanned legs to advantage, and a white-and-blue striped top. Susannah was on the couch flipping through the channels, while Frank stared at his laptop screen.<p>

George sighed. "I can't believe your eyes haven't started crossing, Hardy," she said, hanging her towel back up.

"It's close," Frank admitted, and leaned back a little. He rubbed at his eyelids. "Wonder if Joe's finished with his meeting."

Joe had arranged to meet with Dominique to compare notes. Bess had gone with him. George was pretty sure it was half because she was still terrified from the threat, and half because Bess wanted to keep an eye on the woman she considered her closest competition. Not that George blamed her. Ignoring Joe's personality and all evidence that he would flirt with anyone who moved would be stupid.

"There's nothing on," Susannah sighed, landing on the local news affiliate, then tossed the remote beside her on the couch and stood up to pace.

"Nothing I can understand, anyway," George said, and checked her cell phone to see if Jon had texted her.

Then Susannah chuckled, gazing at the television screen. "Must be a slow news day... oh! There he is!"

Frank and George glanced up. Senator Nasser was shown exiting his hotel in Luxor, waving as he slid into his car.

Susannah glanced up. "Oh shit. Now I remember."

"Remember what?" George asked.

"_Nasser_ was the one who was supporting the project—the exploration project under the desert."

"_Was_?" Frank repeated.

"Was," Susannah said, nodding. "He withdrew his support after the initial reports."

Frank's gaze sharpened. "So Krieger would have definite reason to be mad at him."

Susannah nodded. "The contract would be major, but Aquarius needs some support to get it. He would _be_ that support."

"So we have terrorists and Nasser here... and Nasser's going to be at that banquet, _tonight_." Frank blew out a long breath.

"And we have no idea what he's going to do," George pointed out, running her hand through her hair. "Just that he's desperate and doesn't have the bomb he was trying to sneak in."

Frank sighed. "Perfect."


	16. Chapter 16

"You know you don't have to come with me," Joe said, swinging Bess's hand with his as they walked down to the hotel. Dominique had arranged to meet them at a hotel bar a block away from the Victoria Hotel. "You could get some shopping in."

"No, it's okay," Bess said, giving him a smile. "I want to come with you. Besides, I really don't want to be alone out here. Who knows what this whack job is going to try next."

Joe chuckled, but made his face impassive before Bess glanced up at him. "I might have to vouch for you, with Dominique."

"I'll be on my best behavior," Bess promised, then glanced down at her outfit. She wished she'd had time to change into a fresh outfit before they left for the meeting, but there was nothing to be done. With any luck, they'd have some time to rest and recuperate in their room once they returned... and she had a _lot_ of lingerie she hadn't worn around him yet.

Dominique looked cool and elegant in a silky blue blouse and white pants. Bess fought down the immediate urge to punch her. The smug look on Dominique's face when she saw Bess with Joe was subtle, but Bess filed it away. The other woman did have style; Bess would grant her that, if grudgingly.

"Desjardins's in the city," Dominique said, cupping her chin in her hand. A glass of iced water, a slice of lemon floating at the top, was near her elbow. "My partner's tracking him but he's given the Victoria a once-over."

Joe and Bess exchanged a glance. "We identified Senator Nasser's speech tonight at the Victoria as a possible target," Joe said quietly.

Dominique brow furrowed slightly, and she tapped her nails on the table. "If we switch the venue, we tip them off," she said, mostly to herself. "We'll have to step up security..."

"You said he was suspect in some other terrorist acts," Joe said softly. "How so?"

Dominique's voice was flat, distracted, when she replied. "Explosives," she said, equally softly.

Bess glanced between the two of them. "Guess he went for the backup plan, huh," she said.

"Susannah—she's been traveling with us, and based on the description we gave her, she ID'd the guy who sent us over here on this goose chase. John Krieger. That agree with what you know?" Joe asked.

Dominique tilted her head, lifting her lashes just a little, and Bess knew that look. She had used it many times herself. She would be glad to solve this case, mostly to get all of them out of danger, but she also couldn't wait to see the last of Dominique.

Bess knew exactly how easy it was to wrap a man around her little finger. Apparently, so did Dominique.

Bess cleared her throat. "Susannah wasn't sure about why Krieger would have a connection to Nasser, or anyone else here," she interjected.

"We know that the Aquarius Group has been pursuing a contract to explore for water here, but you'd think it would be much easier for Krieger to go after Nasser while he was in the States. If anything, security over here is more strict." Dominique stroked her finger up the side of her sweating water glass.

"And Darius?" Bess didn't even want to look over at Joe, to see what she was sure would be naked interest in his eyes. Her hand found his knee under the table, and he shifted in his chair.

"Darius? Darius who?" Dominique quirked up an eyebrow.

_Shit_. Bess drew a blank for a moment. "Rashad," she finally remembered.

Dominique shook her head. "Not ringing any bells," she admitted.

"So what's the plan?" Joe asked. "Anything we can do?"

"Well, we could always use some reinforcements," Dominique said with a smile. "It will be dangerous, though. We want to limit collateral damage as much as we can." She nodded in Bess's direction.

Bess bristled. "Hey! What are you—"

Joe's hand touched her knee. "We'll see you there."

"I expect you to look sharp," Dominique said. The corner of her mouth turned up. "After all, why come in a disguise at all if it can't be a good one."

Bess didn't trust herself to speak again until she and Joe were outside, Dominique long gone. They were trying to limit the time they could possibly be spotted together.

"What the hell was that crack?"

Joe smiled and laced his fingers through hers. "Calm down. I just told her to keep an eye—"

"You told her _when_?"

"When we were on the steamer."

Bess slipped her hand out of Joe's so she could cross her arms. "I'm sorry?"

"She slipped me a note. Asked if we had any leads on Desjardins." Joe kept talking even after Bess opened her mouth. "_And_ I told her that if we ended up in a dangerous situation, to keep an eye out for you."

A frown line creased above Bess's brows. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. "_You_ don't plan on being there?"

"Of course I do." Joe slid an arm around her shoulders. She was sending every hostile signal in the book, but it made her look adorable. Sexy, even. "But I've been in enough tight spots to know that I can't be everywhere." He dropped his voice. "And it would... it would be awful if anything happened to you. Anything."

Bess held her stormy look for a moment longer, then tilted her head. "I guess I can't be mad at you about that," she said. "Just maybe about not telling me that you met up with her. But... if you really want to keep me safe..."

"You know I do."

"I have a sneaking suspicion that the safest place for me right now is probably our room. You'd have to stay with me, though. I'd hate to be caught unawares by some miscreant."

Joe chuckled at the last word. "I'd hate that too."

"Especially while I'm in the shower."

"You wouldn't, by chance, need some willing and able-bodied guy to help you with those hard-to-reach spots?"

"I might," Bess said. "I just might. Now, _where_ am I going to find an able-bodied guy around here..."

She had to smother her laughter with her palm as Joe ruthlessly tickled her.

* * *

><p>The Valley of the Kings.<p>

Nancy sat forward in her seat on the bus, staring through the window, her lips a little parted. She heard Ned chuckle and glanced over at him—

"What?" she asked, giving him a playful smack.

"Nothing. You look adorable."

Nancy shook her head, brushing a stray lock of hair off her cheek. "How are you not _fascinated_ by this?" she demanded, turning back to the view. "It's _amazing_."

"Oh, I'm admiring the view," he said, his voice low, and she turned to see him gazing at her, his eyes a little darker.

She shivered, and as the bus slowed down, she leaned over to put her mouth against his ear. "Speaking of _adorable_, I have this _tiny_ hot pink set that I need your opinion on, back in the room."

Ned made a soft noise of approval, then brushed his lips against her ear, nuzzled against her neck. "Depending on how hot it is, I might just rip it off you."

The tour guide shot them a pointed look, clearing her throat. Nancy and Ned had the grace to look a little abashed, just as any newlyweds would, as they joined the group shuffling down the aisle to the exit.

"The Valley of the Kings is one of the most famous burial grounds of the ancient pharaohs," the tour guide began. "It was active from the eighteenth through the twentieth dynasties, from around three and a half _thousand_ years ago. Imagine that." She swept her hand to indicate the valley. "Now, I'm sure almost all of you have heard of the boy king, Tutankhamun, whose tomb is _here, _in this valley! Don't worry, all the treasures are safe—so don't go poking around. The curse of the pharaohs may just be a superstitious myth, but the unopened tombs are strictly off-limits. You don't want to come down with leprosy, or watch your little friend's skin melt off." She directed the last at a pair of teenagers near the front of the group who had played tag at the last site, along with a glare. Then she let out a high-pitched giggle. "Sorry, little _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ reference."

As the lecture continued, Nancy gently tugged at Ned's hand, and he followed her to the outskirts of the group. "Should we split up?"

Ned shrugged. "Nah," he voted. "It'll be good for the cover," he defended himself when she glanced over at him. She rolled her eyes, but shrugged and laced her fingers between his.

"Keep your eyes peeled," she told him, leading the way. "And off my ass."

"How did you know?" Ned laughed.

They skirted close to another tour group. "Archaeologists believe that at least one tomb might still be out here, undiscovered," the guide said. He held up his hands. "But don't get any ideas! _Tomb Raider_ may be an awesome video game, but I don't see anyone who looks like Lara Croft here. The tombs are dangerous. I mean it."

Ned leaned in close to her. "Why am I sensing that this is all like auditory catnip to you," he murmured.

"Well, if I had a fedora and a bullwhip..."

"Keep going," Ned said, once she trailed off. "Now _that's_ some damn auditory catnip."

She gave him another playful shrug, their hands still joined.

The lines at the open tombs were crazy. Ned spotted the sign for Tut's tomb and started digging in his pockets for the entry fee. "Want to try it?"

Nancy shrugged. "I've always wanted to see it," she admitted. "And if we move around, we might miss them..."

"Exactly," Ned said, linking his arm through hers. "Shall we, Mrs. Addison."

Nancy fluttered her lashes at him. "Definitely."

They had been waiting in line for four minutes—and Ned was dealing with his boredom by whispering incredibly dirty things into her ear while he scanned the crowd for Darius and Leila—when Nancy spotted a man, ballcap low over his face, a little girl on his shoulders.

Nancy kept her gaze locked to them when she tapped Ned, nodding in that direction. "Got a possible."

They joined hands and moved out of line as casually as possible, but the man glanced over.

Then he reached up to swing his daughter down into his arms and broke into a run.

"Jackpot," Ned said as they gave chase.

* * *

><p>"Any news?" Frank asked, when Joe and Bess let themselves into Frank and George's room.<p>

"Some," Joe said, and looked over at Bess, who was smothering a yawn.

"He can handle it," Bess shrugged. "I need to go... take care of something. Joe, if you'll just come over in a few..."

George rolled her eyes. "Real subtle, Bess."

Bess flipped off her cousin. "I had a feeling Frank wouldn't appreciate hearing a full itinerary," she said.

"And let me just say that I'm glad too," Susannah said, with a small smile. "Glad for you guys. And glad that you're not next door and about to make me insanely jealous."

"Speaking of, anybody heard from Nancy and Ned?" Bess said, her hand on the doorknob.

"Uh, can we get to _what you found out_?" Frank asked.

"I'll text her," Bess finished, as she headed out.

Joe sat down on the couch. "Dominique thinks that Krieger might be working with someone," Joe said. He didn't look at Susannah. He was ninety-nine percent sure she was legit, but he had been ninety-nine percent sure about other people, too. "An explosives expert. He drove by the Victoria Hotel earlier today."

"So we have a target and a method."

Joe shrugged. "Possibly," he agreed. "And whoever's in for tonight, we'll need some good disguises. I think that's pretty much the only way Dominique's gonna make sure we can get in."

"Wigs?" Susannah asked. Her eyes were bright.

Joe shrugged. "More like the kind of outfits that would make Bess squeal. So unpack your tux, Frank."

Frank chuckled. "Great."

Susannah looked down at her phone. "I should probably go shopping," she said. "But I don't want to miss a call from Beck—from Nancy, if she found anything."

"Just say the word 'shopping' anywhere near Bess," George suggested. "She'll have you out the door before you can take another breath. Speaking of, I'm surprised she didn't want to go get lunch before your little date," she told Joe.

"Maybe she thinks it'll be quick," Frank said.

"Ooooooh," George hummed delightedly. "Good one."

"Just for that," Joe said, pushing himself off the couch before he flipped them both off, "we're gonna get some room service. Have a good lunch, suckers."

* * *

><p>"Over there!"<p>

Nancy and Ned split up as they plowed through the sand, chasing Darius and Leila. She was trying to anticipate what she would do, if she were him. She would get back to a tour bus, a taxi stand, something. But in order to do that, he would have to skirt around.

It took them ten minutes of concentrated effort, but finally Nancy and Ned, panting, found Darius and Leila near one of the tombs, marked as closed for renovation.

"Please," Nancy said quickly. "Darius."

She put the faintest lilt at the end of his name, and his mouth tightened. He pulled Leila closer.

"Please," Nancy repeated. "We're not here to hurt you. We don't want to hurt you. We're here because Susannah's been looking for you."

Darius's face darkened. "I know," he said, his voice low. "And she needs to stop. I told her to stop."

"How can she stop, when you have her daughter?" Ned asked quietly.

"She's my daughter too," Darius said, as Leila shifted in his arms. "Tell Susannah not to worry. Go home. Leila will be home with her soon."

Nancy shook her head. "She's not going to accept that. She's desperate."

"_I'm_ desperate!" Darius replied, his brow creasing. "She's ruining everything."

"She just wants Leila to be safe."

"Why do you think I _took_ Leila?" Darius retorted.

Nancy sighed and took off her hat so she could run a hand through her reddish-blonde hair. "Okay," she said wearily. "Maybe it's the concussion, but you aren't making any sense at all. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

The four of them moved to a partially sheltered area nearby. Leila rubbed at her eyes and told her father she was thirsty; Nancy took one of her spare water bottles out of her pack and passed it over wordlessly.

Darius gave her a small smile. "Thank you. It's been hard, to remember _everything_. Things have been so crazy since we arrived."

Nancy nodded her understanding, and touched Ned's hand. He gave hers a small squeeze. If Darius found an opportunity to make a run for it, Ned would have the best chance of taking him down.

Darius sighed. "I had to get her away from Krieger."

Nancy and Ned exchanged a glance. "Oh?" Nancy said neutrally.

Darius nodded. "He's my boss, at the Aquarius Group. I thought he was a pretty decent guy. Intense, but good.

"Soon after... my wife and I... separated..." he said slowly, glancing down at Leila to make sure she wasn't following their conversation, "I was staying late at work one night, and I overheard a conversation I was never supposed to hear. Krieger was staying late too.

"I knew he was working on a major project. It was going to be huge; Aquarius is a small company and this would really put us on the map. All of us would be involved. It involved coming over here and..."

"Exploring for water under the Sahara?" Nancy asked slowly.

"Yes," Darius said, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, it did. How did you know?"

Nancy shrugged slightly. "Susannah told us about it."

"Ahh. Of course she would know." Darius shifted Leila on his lap. She was an adorable girl, and she had to be amazingly even-tempered to have put up with their insane trip around Egypt.

"Krieger was on the phone with someone. From the way he was talking, I knew the project was in trouble; he sounded desperate, and that... that was frightening."

Nancy could imagine. The man looked intense enough in everyday life.

"Senator Nasser had been calling the office every few days. Then, suddenly, Krieger was in the worst mood I'd ever seen him in, and Nasser wasn't calling anymore."

"So that's where it'll be," Nancy murmured softly, and Ned nodded a little.

"I did some digging," Darius continued. "I couldn't _not_ do it, you know? I love the work, love working for the firm, but if something was going on, I needed to know."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Ned murmured out of the corner of his mouth, and Nancy elbowed him in the ribs.

"I found out—" Darius dropped his voice even lower—"that the whole reason Krieger wants the contract is because he's taking kickbacks. There are some developers out here who want to make sure the Nile stays the only viable source of water. If the Sahara project was successful, they'd be out a lot of money. Krieger needed a major backer; Nasser was that guy.

"But I guess the whole developing a conscience thing is catching, because from what I could figure out, Nasser thought better of the whole idea and pulled his support.

"And Krieger flipped out. The phone call—when I put it all together, I realized what he had been talking about. He was very upset about Nasser pulling out. _Very_ upset. Upset enough to do something very dangerous."

"And that's where we came in," Nancy murmured.

Darius looked at her suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing," Nancy said, waving her hand. "Nothing. I'll explain later. So what did you do when you figured out what he was planning?"

"Well..." Darius rubbed his temple. "I called Nasser. Tried to talk to him about what I'd heard. But he thought I was a nutjob. He stopped taking my calls.

"I confronted Krieger. I thought that if he knew that _I_ knew, it would dissuade him from doing anything. But Krieger was pretty clear on what he would do if I tried to interfere with what he was doing—and I couldn't just let that stand, you know? I couldn't."

Nancy nodded. "Of course not."

"When I found out Krieger was coming over here, I came too, and I had to bring Leila—he had threatened to hurt the people I loved."

For a nanosecond Nancy wanted to ask if he hadn't considered that Krieger might go after Susannah, but maybe he hadn't. She still didn't understand the circumstances of their divorce; maybe they were still incredibly bitter toward each other. And she couldn't imagine Susannah as an ideal bodyguard.

"And then you connected with Bishara," Nancy prompted.

"She and Tabia did as much as they could for me. I don't know what would have happened if they hadn't." Darius ran his hand over his daughter's curly hair.

"And Hanif?"

Darius, his brow furrowed a little, shook his head. "I didn't talk to him. Didn't contact him."

_Then why had he acted so strange?_ Nancy shook her head. "So what was your plan?" she asked. "He's probably going to make his move tonight. We should try to contact Nasser's people, let them know he's in danger. Even if he doesn't believe you, he'll probably take that kind of warning seriously."

"Yes, he probably would," came a voice from behind her.

Nancy turned and her heart fell.

Krieger stood at the corner of the tomb, with Mahfouz just behind him. They were both holding guns.

"Which is why we definitely need to make sure he doesn't get one."


	17. Chapter 17

Nancy and Ned stood together. They had seen the bruises after George and Frank had fought Mahfouz. Without even a glance between them, Nancy knew Ned would try to take the larger man. She had more of a chance of getting Krieger, anyway.

Darius stood, keeping Leila behind him. The girl let out a confused wail, tugging at her father's pants leg.

"Daddy?"

"Shh," Darius said. His face was set, stern.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

Nancy's stomach clenched when Kimball glared at the little girl. "You need to shut her up," Kimball said meaningfully to Darius.

Darius knelt and murmured something to his daughter, who let out a little distressed cry. She clung to his leg, pressing her face against him.

"You're not going to get away with this," Nancy said. She had yet to see that phrase work on anyone, but hope sprang eternal.

"Well, you certainly did your best to make sure I wouldn't," Kimball retorted, stepping forward. He was still far enough away that she and Ned couldn't lash out with kicks to disarm them, but at least they were closer. "Of all the bad luck, to get stuck in another security check at the airport. I expected more from Hardy. He came so highly recommended to me."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Sorry we were an inconvenience," she said sarcastically.

"Oh, quite to the contrary, Miss Drew. You and your group have been very helpful. I would never have found Mr. Rashad here without your assistance."

"You—" Darius flushed, gazing hard at Nancy and Ned.

Nancy glanced back at him, shaking her head. "No, no, it's not like that..."

"It's not," Krieger agreed. "Why don't we all sit down, for a moment." He motioned with his gun, and Nancy and Ned moved near Darius and Leila. Nancy saw Ned's hand slip into his pocket, but she glanced away just as quickly.

From the middle distance, a tour guide's voice boomed. "Our next stop will be just as..."

"You see, I discovered that, once Hanif lost your trail, all I had to do was follow Miss Drew and Mr. Nickerson here." Krieger had a faint smile on his face, but his eyes were cold.

Darius bristled. "Hanif would never—"

"Hanif would," Krieger corrected him. "You see, I let him know that your ex-wife was a very dangerous, unstable woman, who had threatened to kill you on sight. So Hanif was very obliging, and did his best to help me find you before she could. He was very concerned about your well-being."

Nancy shook her head in disgust.

"We lost track of you, but that's why it was so helpful to have some backup. All I had to do was keep an eye on Miss Drew's group. And here we are." Krieger smiled. "And now that you've served your purpose..."

Nancy swallowed. "But you're not quite finished, are you," she said. "You still have to take care of Nasser."

"I have that figured out. Thanks for reminding me." Krieger scowled when Leila murmured something to her father. "And tonight no one's going to question another four bodies."

"You could leave us here."

Krieger chuckled. "And take the chance that you would escape and get in my way again?" He shook his head. "I have to give it to you, you and your friends are persistent. Hit you over the head with an urn, poison you, pin a note to a doll..."

"Yeah, that last one was really classy," Ned interjected.

"You and Mahfouz must have come up with some really good disguises, to get past us when you were coming off the steamer," Nancy commented, trying to draw him out, trying to figure out something she could do. If their tour group guide noticed they were missing, would they send out a search party or just assume they would catch up somehow? Could she and Ned coordinate an attack that would definitely keep Leila safe? They were in the middle of the fucking desert; other than losing themselves in a crowd, Nancy had no idea how they would be able to escape.

"Wearing full Islamic garb," Krieger confirmed. "Okay, let's do this."

Darius stood when Mahfouz nudged him with the gun. "Please," he said, his voice shaking, "for heaven's sake, let Leila go. Deal with me as you will, but let her go. What threat is she to you?"

"She can speak, can't she?" Krieger said harshly. "She's a liability. And you brought her into this, Rashad. Your choice. Just take comfort in the fact that you won't be around to mourn her passing."

Darius made a frustrated sound. "Look, I _promise, _I _swear_ that I won't call Nasser. Whatever you have planned tonight..."

"Fine," Krieger said, shading his eyes. "You let me keep Leila as collateral, and sure, I'll take your word for it." Krieger sneered. "You burned up all the trust I had in you quite a while back.

"Come on." He motioned with the gun and Nancy and Ned stood, exchanging a glance.

If Krieger managed to get them somewhere secluded, Nancy had no doubt he would shoot them.

That was when she felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket.

* * *

><p>Bess scowled at her cell phone. She swept her long blonde hair over one shoulder, her foot half in her sandal. She was sitting on the bed in the room she and Joe shared, dressing to rejoin the group.<p>

"Still not answering?" Joe asked, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah," Bess said slowly. Whenever she tried to call Nancy now, her call immediately went to voicemail. "Guess that was the one thing the pharaohs forgot, huh? To build their own cell phone towers?"

"Guess so," Joe chuckled. He glanced at her suitcase.

"What are you looking for?" Bess asked, slipping her heel into her sandal. "You want to pick out what I wear next?"

"I wouldn't mind that," Joe admitted with a grin. "No, just... you don't have a bulletproof vest in there or anything..."

"Must have left that in the suitcase with my brass knuckles and semiautomatics," she said.

Joe sat down on the bed beside her. "I don't have the best feeling about tonight," he said. "Any situation where an explosives expert is probably involved—that's not going to end well. If I said that maybe you and Susannah could..."

"Could what?" Bess asked, raising one eyebrow.

"I don't know. Maybe meet us at the bar later."

"Or back here," Bess said, smiling. "Well... I know I'm as good as useless in a tight situation..."

"It's not that," Joe reassured her. "Definitely not that. I just can't stand the thought of you being in danger because of this."

Bess reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Okay," she said. "I guess so. But don't take this as a sign. You aren't going to win all the arguments this easily."

"You sure?" Joe wiggled his eyebrows. "I didn't even give you a _tenth_ of my irresistible charm."

She grinned. "Oooh. I really do you want to see you in your tux, though, so how about you come over after the bad guys are all in cuffs and we dance a little before I drag you back here and rip it off you with my teeth."

"Baby, you won't need to drag me anywhere," Joe promised, leaning over to claim her lips with his.

On the way back to Frank's room, Bess tried Nancy's cell again. "Ugh," she groaned in frustration, then sent her friend a text message. "If she saw Johnny Depp out there and _that's_ why she's not answering me..."

"And exactly how likely is that?" Joe asked, amused.

"Look, unless Nancy and Ned decided to check 'doing it on the side of a pyramid' off their sex bucket list, the only reason I can imagine her not answering me right now involves a gunfight or a viciously hot movie star. I just thought I'd save your delicate sensibilities and not mention that first option."

"Yeah, I feel faint just thinking about all the PDA I've been exposed to on this trip," Joe muttered. "Delicate sensibilities?" he repeated.

They ended up chasing each other down the hall, and Bess pounded desperately at Frank's door, breathless and giggling. Frank jerked it open, his eyes narrowed, then scowled when he saw it was just his brother and Bess playing around.

"Has Nancy called?" Bess asked, throwing herself on the couch. "And where is everybody?" Bess arched an eyebrow. "Oh my God, if this turns into _Ten Little Indians,_ I am going to lose my shit."

Frank rolled his eyes. "George decided to hit the gym, and Susannah decided to get something suitable for tonight—"

"So she's out _shopping_?" Bess's eyes lit up.

"I... was trying to avoid saying that word, but yeah." Frank shook his head.

"Any new leads?" Joe asked, coming over to peer over Frank's computer.

"Going over schematics for the Victoria Hotel," Frank said, as Bess whipped out her cell phone and started rapidly texting. "The ballroom, anyway. There are a lot of points of entry, and it's going to be a major pain in the ass to cover everything _and_ keep an eye on all vantage points."

Bess's phone chirped, and she glanced up. "Joe, _sweetheart_," she drawled. "Susannah is just a few streets down, it'll be a tiny cab ride, _please, _you know you want me to be wearing something gorgeous tonight—"

"You're not even going to _be_ there," Joe pointed out. "Come to think of it, if she's with you, neither will she."

"Bess is sitting tonight out?"

"Yeah," Joe told his brother. "I don't want her anywhere near a bomb. Well, honestly, _ I_ don't want to be anywhere near a bomb, but here we are."

Frank nodded. "And what was it you were saying about Nancy?"

"Oh." Bess looked down at her phone. "Shit. Ned's phone is going to voicemail too."

"They left before we figured out it was the Victoria, didn't they?" Frank asked. "Well, maybe they found a hot lead."

"More like a broom closet," Bess muttered. "Anyway, Joe, darling?"

"Can you spare me for a few? I'll be right back, and we can go over some plans. Especially once George and Nan and Ned get back."

Frank waved a hand. "Go, you two. And, as long as Bess is out—I'll need a tux for tonight."

Bess grinned. "And you will look damned sharp in it, that I can promise."

* * *

><p>"What's your goal, here?"<p>

Krieger was gazing at his watch. "Hmm?"

Nancy swallowed. "You're after Nasser, right? What are you hoping to achieve?"

"Punishment," Krieger said angrily. "His little change of heart could cost me millions. All he had to do was sign a few papers, look the other way. He deserves this."

"And we deserve this too?"

Krieger shrugged. "Don't lie and say this will be our little secret—we both know that isn't true. And besides, you know way too much to live."

"Frank and Joe—they don't know. You can leave them alone."

Krieger smirked. "You're lying, and I'll know that for sure when I see them manage to talk their way into the reception tonight. No matter. With what I have planned, ten birds, one large stone.

"I am grateful to you," he admitted. "Would have taken me longer to track down this thorn in my side without you."

"Glad I could help," Nancy said sarcastically, casting a quick glance behind her. Ned looked up at her, his hands clasped behind them. Mahfouz was too close to Leila for their comfort. If any of them made a false move, she would probably be the first injured.

"I wasn't expecting much," Krieger said. "Throw a huge bank account and a new wardrobe at a girl and she tries to see how fast she can go through it. And yet."

Ned slowed down a little. "Hey," he said to Mahfouz. "The girl needs water."

The six of them were taking the long way around the tombs, and were hidden from public view. Krieger casually drew his gun and pointed it at Nancy. "If it'll make her stop her whining, get her some water."

Nancy reached into her pack for her other water bottle. She could sense Ned to her left, tensed and waiting for whatever opening she could provide.

She picked up the heavy bottle and threw it straight at Krieger.

Krieger batted at it, letting out a furious exclamation. Mahfouz jerked in that direction, trying to see what was going on, and Ned set off for him at a dead run, trying for a tackle. Mahfouz's gun went off and Nancy whipped her head around to make sure no one else had been hit, as her foot connected with Krieger's hand.

The gun hit the sand. Nancy dove for it.

In the meantime, Mahfouz let out a bellow of rage as Ned punched his forearm, trying to get him to drop his gun. He drove his palms hard toward Mahfouz's ears, boxing them, and when the larger man rapidly shook his head, Ned sank his fist into the larger man's solar plexus.

But he seemed to have been constructed of solid cement, Nancy noticed.

Krieger kicked the gun away, and Nancy sucked in a breath when his toe connected with the point of her wrist. She had to roll out of the way quickly as he swung his foot sideways, trying to catch her in the face. She grabbed his ankle and sank her nails into his calf, using her grip as leverage to swing her legs up, and kicked him hard in the ass.

He sank to his knees, an enraged expression on his face, and punched Nancy hard on the chin. She pulled her leg back, her breath coming out in a pained gasp, and her heel connected with his temple.

Mahfouz's gun went off again. Nancy was almost afraid of what she was going to see behind her, especially when Leila let out a piercing scream.

"Shut _up_," Krieger roared, wedging himself between Nancy's open legs. He slapped her hard and she kicked him in the ribs. That only served to make him angrier, and he rolled onto his side, groping for the gun.

Behind her, Nancy heard two bodies drop heavily to the sand.

She scrambled desperately for the gun, risking a glance over. Mahfouz's fist was just connecting with Ned's face, but Nancy's boyfriend was resourceful. He managed to dodge and reduce the next punch to a glancing blow, as he delivered a stunning uppercut.

Nancy's fingertips were just brushing the butt of the gun when Krieger hauled back. Nancy's head snapped back with the force of the blow, and she could taste blood in her mouth. Leila screamed again and Nancy launched herself up, then lunged for Krieger as his hand closed around the gun.

He roared when she landed on his back, batting hard at his hand. "You _bitch_," he hissed, whipping over savagely to dislodge her. She wrapped an arm around his neck, squeezing tight, but he drove an elbow back and all her breath escaped her in one pained gush.

Her nails raked over his face and Krieger howled as his head snapped back, connecting with Nancy's.

_Oh. Oh fuck._

She was stunned for a handful of seconds, but it was long enough. He shrugged her off and she fell, groaning, to the sand. Krieger reached down and hauled her to her feet, and she struggled the whole way, especially when he wrapped his arm around her throat.

"Ned," Krieger said, panting his breath back.

Ned looked up. Mahfouz took the opening to drive his palm hard against Ned's temple, and Ned winced.

Then he froze, his eyes wide, as Krieger put the muzzle of his gun to Nancy's temple.

"Stop," Krieger ordered Ned. "Or we find an empty tomb and she gets buried with the pharaohs."

Ned held his hands up, palms out, and Mahfouz climbed unsteadily to his feet. Leila's face was white, her eyes wide. She looked terrified. Darius looked sick.

"There," Krieger said. "Much, much better." He wiped at his lip, and when he saw blood there, Nancy felt the gun strike her temple, hard. She sagged for a moment, but Krieger's grip just tightened. Ned's jaw tightened and he moved toward her, but Mahfouz grabbed his wrist.

"A black eye was _not _in the plan for tonight," Krieger growled. "You're going to pay for that."

Nancy swallowed. Her mouth tasted coppery with blood. "Damn. Sorry about that."

Krieger shook his head. "Either of you try something heroic again, the little girl gets it. If I had the time, I'd flay you both alive and leave you out here to burn, but I have a schedule to keep. So move it."

No one had come to investigate Leila's screams. Nancy still felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket every now and then, but she was afraid that if she reached for it, Mahfouz would see what she was doing and alert Krieger.

Well, as soon as they were loaded onto whatever Krieger was using for transportation, with any luck, she would be able to take her phone out and call someone.

In the parking lot, Krieger glanced around before he opened the trunk. "In there," he motioned to Darius and Leila. He pistol-whipped Darius once the man was inside, and Leila, squirming and sobbing, was loaded in with him. The trunk, once it was closed, muffled her screams.

Nancy's heart twisted in her chest.

"Now you two," Krieger said with a thin smile, motioning for Nancy and Ned to get in the back seat. They slid in, their hands meeting and clasping between them.

"It'll all be over soon," Krieger promised, and drew his hand back. The first blow was searing agony.

The second became a distant ache as she slipped into the waiting dark of unconsciousness.


	18. Chapter 18

_With any luck, the case will be over in a few hours._

_Good luck! Get on the next flight home. I mean it._

Frank glanced up from his cell phone, at his reflection.

_I think you'd love the disguise I'm in right now._

"Hey, George?"

George walked in. When she heard Frank's request, she snorted. "I'm going to start calling you Bess if you don't stop it."

Frank flipped her off. "Come on. It's for Callie."

George shook her head. "Bess, stop putting eyeliner on your boyfriend and tell him to get in here."

"I was _not_—" Bess walked in and her protest died on her lips, though she did indeed have an eyeliner pencil in her hand. "Oh._ Damn_."

Despite himself, Frank did have to smile a little at Bess's reaction. "What do you think?"

"I think I picked the wrong brother," Bess teased Joe, bumping her shoulder against his as he walked in.

Frank looked cool and elegant in his tux. He had just shaved, and his hair was neat. Joe was the more muscular of the two, though, and when Frank saw the expression on Bess's face as she glanced at Joe, he felt another pang of homesickness for Callie.

George took a photo of the two brothers, making a face as she did. "Bess, I swear—"

"Oh, come on. One of us. To put online."

Frank answered a knock at the hotel room door as George groaned about shooting her cousin. Susannah greeted him with a smile. "You look nice," he told her, a little self-consciously, as she smoothed her skirt over her thighs. Her dark-blue dress was trimmed in sequins.

"Thanks. Nancy and Ned back yet?" Susannah glanced at her cell phone and frowned.

"Not yet. Did you hear from her?" Frank asked, unbuttoning his coat.

Susannah shook her head. "I don't want to interrupt, I know they're out trying to track Darius down..."

Frank glanced over at Bess. "Did Nancy ever get back to you?"

Bess shook her head, her eyes widening. "How long until the tour's over?"

"I can't believe that cell service would be that bad," George said. "And if they were just off sucking face in the back of the bus, they would've called back by now."

Bess pressed a button and brought her phone to her ear, making a face when it clicked over to voicemail. "Seriously, I don't like this."

"Activate the locator," George suggested.

Bess navigated through the menus, then peered at the screen of her phone. "Shit. I don't know what this means."

She handed her phone over to Susannah easily when she gestured for it. "They're... on the road, headed this way," she said slowly. "Well, her phone is."

"So the tour must be over," Frank said. "They'll be here soon."

Bess looked unconvinced, but she put her phone away. "Okay. So the plan is that you two—three," she amended, at the expression on George's face, "will sneak into the reception, find the bomb, and we meet up after for drinks."

Susannah chuckled. "You make it sound like no big deal," she said, shaking her head.

"For them, it isn't a big deal," Bess said wearily. "It's what they do."

"True." Joe slipped his arm around Bess. "Yes to drinks. And yes to us meeting up after. Although I'm sure Frank will be back here booking us return tickets instead of out toasting with us."

Frank glanced up. "What? I don't want to miss Thanksgiving. Or whatever Callie has planned."

"I'll be sure to _not_ mention the order you said those things in, when I see her," Joe said wryly.

"And when exactly are we going to get nervous if Nancy and Ned aren't here? Don't you want them helping?" Bess fidgeted with her watch band.

"It's _one_ bomb," Frank pointed out. "We know roughly how big it will be, based on what was in the luggage. I think the only trick will be getting there before it goes off."

* * *

><p>Ned awoke to elevator music.<p>

He opened his eyes, but all he could see was a fold of white fabric. He was lying on his left side, on his shoulder, and his hand felt numb. He shifted. His hands were bound behind him.

Shifting relieved some of the pressure. He would have groaned from the deep prickling of feeling coming back to his arm, but he was gagged.

So that was nice.

And he was moving.

He wiggled his fingers and his fingertips, the ones that weren't numb, brushed against stiff fabric. Denim, maybe. Warm.

_Nancy._

He had to make sure she was okay. When that asshole had been pointing a gun at her—

Ned knew he loved her. He had never doubted it. Seeing her in danger, though, had always called up a fiercely protective streak. He would do anything, anything at all, crawl on his knees through hot coals and broken glass, whatever it took to find her and make sure she was all right.

With any luck, though, he was feeling the fabric of her shorts against his fingertips.

As gently as he could, Ned tipped onto his stomach—his ribs hurt a little; he was sure they had been none too gentle when moving him. He turned his head.

Nancy was beside him. She was still passed out, though, curled up in something almost like the fetal position, and he saw a nasty bruise on her temple.

Gently Ned began to work his fingers against his bonds. Nancy had taught him everything he knew about getting out of tight situations—mostly because she was the reason he got into so many of them in the first place.

And they weren't going to die like this. Not like this. He wasn't going to lose her to some psychotic asshole who was just angry that someone else had interfered with his plans.

Nancy knew how Ned felt about her. It was just in moments like these that Ned felt such a desperate desire to have her in his arms again, to make sure she understood how much he loved her.

The bonds were firm, and working against them was tedious. He heard traffic noises, voices speaking Arabic, the chime of an elevator. He froze every time the cart they were on slowed or stopped; if he could roll out from under the white drape, get someone's attention...

Nancy was still passed out, and she wouldn't have a chance in that case.

And where were Darius and Leila?

The cart rattled over some sort of threshold, and he heard a chime. Another elevator. He wriggled close to the edge of the cart, trying tentatively to see out, but the tip of his nose barely brushed against the fabric and didn't succeed in moving it. He was afraid that whoever was pushing the cart would see him and retaliate.

His bonds weren't moving, either.

The cart rolled through and he heard—he wasn't sure. Muffled voices, grumbling. Metal against metal—silverware? The person pushing the cart gave it an extra-hard shove and Ned slid a few inches as the cart went up an incline.

When it finally stopped, the curtains were dark, no light showing through. Instinctively Ned closed his eyes, going still as well.

He felt a slight breeze against his face as the curtain was pulled back, and prayed he hadn't inadvertently twitched in response.

"Over here." The voice was Krieger's. The curtain swung back into place as he turned the cart sideways. "Yeah. Right here."

"Shoot them?"

Ned began to work as quickly and quietly as he dared against the bonds, praying that at any moment he would feel Nancy doing the same beside him, but she remained still.

_Fuck. Just say no. Just say_—

"I like the idea of them burning to death better."

"The ropes...?"

"The explosion is going to be so intense that if they find _anything_, it won't be the ropes."

"All the more reason to shoot them."

Ned recognized Mahfouz's voice, pitched low to keep from being overheard, and he swore that as soon as he got out of this, he was going to shoot Mahfouz. Overzealous bastard.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," Krieger said dryly. "Call Jordan and see if the rest of them have left the hotel yet. You and your itchy trigger finger can take care of _that_ problem."

Ned's wrists were slick with sweat now, and starting to feel raw.

The scary thing was that if he and Nancy ever _did_ go on a honeymoon, he would be utterly unsurprised to find it ending this way, with a psychotic amateur terrorist threatening to burn them alive. That would be about right.

Krieger and Mahfouz walked away, and Ned moved to the edge of the cart, trying to see out again.

The two hadn't even bothered to knock them out again. He had no idea how long they had before the bomb went off. The cavalry was under surveillance and his girlfriend was passed out behind him.

_You owe me,_ he thought, wincing as he began to twist his wrists again. _You owe me, Drew, _big time. _Like sex three times a day for the next week owe me. Like we're never coming back to Egypt owe me. Like the next time Hardy asks you for a favor I'm going to punch him owe me._

Carefully he rolled to his other side, making out the faint shape of Nancy's prone form in the dark. If he could wake her, they could work on each other's ropes, get out faster. Get Leila and Darius out faster. Warn everyone. This was only one of the options Frank and the rest of the group had been considering for the attack; judging by their terrible luck, the five of them would split up and probably leave Bess to handle Mahfouz.

Not that Ned relished the thought of facing the man again. Unless he had a submachine gun. _And_ a taser. A really, really big taser.

Ned rubbed the tip of his nose against Nancy's, his eyes wide.

_Wake up, Nan. Please wake up. We're in a huge fucking mess if you don't._

* * *

><p>"They won't even admit that he's <em>at<em> the hotel," Bess groaned, hanging up the phone. "Which I guess is a good thing."

Joe shook his head. "So you didn't talk to any of his people?"

"No, they weren't big on the idea of letting me speak to the entourage of a guest who _isn't there._" Bess propped her chin on her hand. "And I need to get my dress on."

Joe had to admit that Bess looked absolutely stunning in her dress, once she emerged from the bathroom forty-five minutes later. Her hair was piled high on her head, and the coffee-colored satin of her form-fitting dress was ruched over her waist. Her lashes were thick and impossibly dark, lending a sparkle to her blue eyes.

"You don't want me to leave at all, do you," Joe murmured, coming over to her, sure as iron to a magnet.

She smiled slowly, looping her arms around his neck as he slid his around her waist. "Well, you say it's very dangerous," she pointed out. "You don't want me in danger, but I definitely don't want _you_ in danger either, mister."

"Someone has to be there to distract them while Frank disarms the bomb."

"And he has a lot of experience at this kind of thing?" Bess's blue eyes were wide as Joe touched the tip of his nose against hers.

"Pretty good amount," Joe admitted, tilting his head a little.

"I just did my lipstick," she protested mildly, as his breath touched her lips.

"Yeah, well, you have time to do it over," Joe murmured as he kissed her.

Susannah and Bess were safely installed at a bar two blocks away from the hotel. Joe told Bess that if he texted her to do so, if their search was unsuccessful, she should call a bomb threat in to the hotel, then wait for them to show.

"Come back in one piece," she told him severely. "Eyebrows and everything." She frowned down at her cell phone. "And let me know if you don't see Nancy there. Maybe her cell went dead—it's going straight to voicemail. And they should be _back_ by now."

Bess's face was creased in concern, and Joe patted her hand. "I'll let you know. And if we don't see her, as soon as we take care of the bomb thing, we'll find them."

"I swear, I don't know why I hang out with that girl," Bess sighed dramatically. "She's a damn cockblock."

Susannah hid her giggle behind her hand. She had a martini in front of her, although her cell was out as well. "Maybe she and Ned are beating the hell out of my asshole ex right now."

Bess chuckled. "Well, that's Ned's job, beating the hell out of people. There's been a few times I thought he was going to do that to Frank..."

Susannah's eyes widened. "What?"

"Long story," Bess said. "But we have some time to kill."

* * *

><p>Dominique's eyes were sparkling as she swept her gaze over the three of them. Joe smiled. Maybe Dominique was off-limits, but he really liked her.<p>

_Off-limits. Definitely off-limits._

"Just you three?"

"Bess and Susannah are sitting this one out," Joe answered her. "Any update?"

Dominique swept her hair over her bare shoulder. She wore a one-shoulder emerald green dress, clinging enough in the bodice to keep wandering gazes from the slight bulge of her holstered service weapon. "Initial sweep didn't find anything," she told them quietly. "Desjardins is the priority here, but if we see any of the three—or anyone else who looks suspicious—we'll arrest first, ask questions later. For God's sake, _don't try anything_ if you find a device—"

"I have some experience," Frank began.

Dominique shook her head. "We can't risk an international incident here. An attempt on an American senator on Egyptian soil could spark some awful retaliation. So, keep a low profile, be thorough. Here's my cell number if you spot something suspicious and need backup."

"Backup," George murmured. "What an entirely novel idea. Since you seem to know everything else—is Nancy back from her tour?"

Dominique shrugged. "Is she missing?"

"Hasn't turned up, hasn't answered her cell in a few hours."

"And where was she?"

"On her way to a tour of the tombs and museums," George said. "With her boyfriend."

Dominique shook her head. "Let's just hope they aren't in one of the tombs," she said.

* * *

><p>"Nan."<p>

_Okay,_ Nancy thought muzzily, squeezing her eyes tighter shut. _Seriously, is a week between head injuries so much to ask? _Shit.

She opened her eyes. "Thank God. Nan."

She couldn't speak. A gag was tied tight around her head. Her hands were tied and her entire side felt numb.

"Can you understand me?"

She nodded, her eyes darting around. She heard voices, clinking, muffled through something. _Where the hell are we_? she wanted to ask, but her mouth was so dry.

"I'm going to flip over. You flip over too and I'll try to get your ropes, you try to get mine."

Nancy's head spun for a sickening moment after she flipped over, but she managed to master it pretty quickly. Ned's fingertips were warm as they brushed against hers; her fingers were pricked with sensitivity as feeling returned.

The smallest part of her was shocked they were still alive. Krieger didn't strike her as the sanest person, but maybe he was reluctant to shoot them. After all, he'd resorted to poisoning and threats over more serious injury.

But Ned. She was used to facing danger for herself; she hated when anyone she loved was in danger, and he was. They had to get free, find Darius and Leila, and get them somewhere safe.

Ned released a soft cry as one of the impossibly tight ropes finally loosened a little. By the time the two of them were free, Ned's wrists were rubbed raw, and Nancy was practically choking on her gag, her own wrists sensitive to the touch. She ripped the gag out of her mouth and coughed quietly, peeking out from beneath the curtain around them before she carefully scrambled off the cart.

Ned stood and immediately wrapped her in his arms, and Nancy squeezed him hard. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice dry and weak. She swallowed. "Are you okay?"

"Head hurts," Ned admitted, "but at least we're in one piece."

Too soon, Nancy forced herself to let Ned go. Together they moved to the cart beside theirs, pulling back the curtain. Nancy glanced over her shoulder before she reached down and gathered Leila into her arms. Ned set to work on Darius's bonds.

Nancy shushed the little girl as she untied her gag, and Leila was shivering, trembling as she pressed her face into Nancy's shirt. Moving nimbly in the dark, Nancy's fingers defeated the knots in the ropes around Leila's wrists.

"Daddy," Leila murmured as Darius, still shaking a little, pulled his daughter into his arms.

"Shh, shh," Darius said, stroking her hair. "It's all right. It's okay, honey."

But it wasn't. Nancy could tell that with a single look into Ned's eyes.

"We're behind the stage," he explained. "The bomb's nearby. We have to get out of here, _now_, Nan."

Nancy glanced over at Darius and his daughter. "Get them out of here," she told Ned. "I have to find an officer, get them to shut this thing down before more people get hurt."

"We can call from down the street," Ned said, but she could tell from his expression that he didn't expect her to agree.

"It'll only take a second."

Ned chuckled incredulously. "I'm not gonna waste time trying to convince you," he muttered. "Babe, be fast. Get out of here as quick as you can. I overheard Krieger saying he was going to get all of us, so we need to warn everyone else."

"Do that," Nancy nodded.

Ned embraced her quickly, fiercely, again. His lips brushed her unbruised temple. "If anything happens to you—"

"Nothing will happen to me," she promised, emptily. "Now get them out of here."

When Ned, Darius, and Leila were gone, Nancy had to shake herself. She sagged a little. Her head was pounding fiercely. It was all she could do to stay upright.

Slowly she moved to the stairs opposite the ones Ned had taken. The kitchen. She took a breath, set her shoulders, and moved through purposefully quickly, glancing around. In the back, near the washroom, she found a spare apron and tied that over her conspicuous and dusty tourist outfit, tucking her bright hair under a bandanna. It wasn't the best disguise, but it would do.

She slipped her cell phone out of her back pocket, but it wouldn't even display a low-battery icon, much less make a call. So that was out.

Now, to find an officer.

* * *

><p>Joe was insanely frustrated. A solid half-hour of searching and nothing. Absolutely nothing. Dessert had been served. Nasser was on the stage.<p>

A woman in an ill-fitting pencil skirt and blazer took a place at the podium, clearing her throat. "Your attention, please," she began, glancing down at her hands, ready to introduce the senator.

Shit. They were running out of time.

He sought out his brother and George. Frank had checked out the long tables at either side of the room; George had been edging toward the stage, but she would never be able to sneak a glance at the podium now.

They couldn't risk it.

Joe read over his text message again. _No luck. Plan B._

He pressed the send button. If nothing happened before Nasser stood to take the stage, Joe was prepared to dash into the hallway and pull the fire alarm.

Then he glanced over at the doorway. Three officers were there; he turned toward them, debating whether they would believe him if he explained what was going on. Too many tablecloths, too many hiding places. And what if Krieger had come up with another plan entirely, and Desjardins's presence was a red herring?

The cop in the middle had a triangular scar on his cheek. His hand was on his gun.

Joe looked up into John Krieger's cold, unsmiling face.


	19. Chapter 19

"Frank."

Frank Hardy turned around. Nancy Drew stood there, looking disheveled in a smudged apron, a bandanna over her hair. Her hand still hung in midair, but her gaze wasn't on him. It was beyond him, toward the hotel's lobby.

And her face was pale.

"_Duck!_" she told him urgently, spinning around.

Frank's initial impulse was to follow her, but instead he turned and followed her gaze. Joe was standing near the lobby entrance, his back to Frank, facing three officers. He couldn't clearly make out—

Oh, oh yes he could. _Krieger._

The fire alarm began to ring, urgently. Around him, the well-dressed men and women of the audience began to glance around in confusion, rising from their chairs.

Officers. Of course. In the confusion—

Nancy reappeared, panting. Something in the angle of her eyelids told Frank she was almost spent. "Bomb, near the stage—"

He grabbed her hand and she winced. Frank glanced down as they began to run for the stage, and saw the red mark on her wrist. His jaw tightened.

"Are you okay? What—"

Nancy shook her head impatiently. Nasser's team of bodyguards had him surrounded and were escorting him away from the stage. "I don't know when the bomb is set to go off, but Nasser's the main target here. He—"

"We know," Frank nodded.

"Get back!" The armed guard near the stage scowled at them as they approached. He held up his hand. "Can't you hear the fire alarm?"

"We have reason to believe—" Frank began.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "There's a— _shit._ Look, why do you think I pulled the fucking alarm in the first place? Get these people out of here!"

He began to violently remonstrate with Nancy, and Frank took the opportunity to move around him, moving rapidly onto the stage. "Where is it?" he called back to Nancy.

"I'd guess the podium," she called back.

"Hey! You can't—"

The officer began to move toward Frank. For a second Frank was afraid Nancy was going to do her damnedest to deck him. She looked like she'd been to hell and back.

"Call Dominique!"

"My cell's dead," she returned.

The podium was made of cheap particle board covered in a dark veneer. The lower third was enclosed, presumably to provide some stability, but it felt flimsy under his fingertips—

The officer's hand closed on Frank's shoulder. "Sir, you _have_ to evacuate—"

"You're right," Frank pointed out grimly, as soon as he managed to work the panel free, revealing a nightmarish tangle of cords wrapped around something pale grey.

"You really _do_ have to evacuate."

* * *

><p>Where the <em>fuck<em> was Frank. That was what Joe wanted to know.

Mahfouz's lips curved up in a terrible grin, revealing his teeth, as he pulled back for another punch. Joe ducked easily—the man had such brute force at his disposal that he had apparently _never_ been told he telegraphed everything—and directed a series of rapid jabs at his midsection, but it was like driving into a cinder-block wall.

In the chaos he had lost track of Krieger, too.

Where the _fuck_ was his brother. At least one of them could provide a distraction while the other got Mahfouz from behind. Preferably with a cattle prod to the neck.

If he could just buy a few seconds to get to his cell phone—

Mahfouz managed to clout Joe in the side of the head, and the pain was blurred, pulsing with the ringing of the fire alarm.

"Stop it."

The voice was low and forceful. Joe drew a deep breath, trying to focus.

Mahfouz glanced over. His fingers clenched into a fist.

"Hey. I'd do what the lady says."

Isabelle pressed the muzzle of her gun a little harder into Mahfouz's ribs. "Please, give me an excuse to put one in you. I've been itching to drop someone since this damn trip began."

Joe chuckled. "And you looked like the sane one, too."

"I'll be sure to tell my partner you said that," Isabelle said, not taking her eyes off Mahfouz. "Where's Krieger?"

Mahfouz clamped his lips shut. "I don't know, but they're dressed as officers," Joe pointed out.

"Thanks, Sherlock," Isabelle said dryly.

"Look, I've just gotten my thousandth concussion. The least you could do is throw some confetti around," Joe said, rubbing his temple. "Also, fuck you, you giant brute. Why don't you pick on someone your own size, like the damn Hulk."

Mahfouz made a feint for him. Joe responded with a swift foot to his knee.

"I don't like this," Isabelle said, and pressed a finger to her ear. "What's Krieger's location?" she asked the air.

Joe glanced into the sea of faces still in the room. Nancy was easy to spot—her bandanna made her stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd full of satin and silk. She was shouldering her way rapidly to the other side of the room, George on her heels.

The kitchen.

Joe took off.

* * *

><p>"Stop!"<p>

Admittedly, it wasn't her best distraction. But the fire alarm definitely wasn't helping her head.

Nasser turned. He and three members of his entourage were heading for the kitchen exit. An officer was leading the way.

Krieger was leading the damn way.

Frank was on stage, doing his best to diffuse the damn bomb. Dominique wasn't answering her cell. Nancy had no idea where Joe was, and she had sent Ned out of danger. Neither Nancy nor George was armed.

Yeah. This was going to be a story to tell the grandchildren, if she made it out alive.

When Krieger turned around, the gun was in his hand, pointed straight at Nasser. "I should've let him shoot you," Krieger said angrily to Nancy. "Meddling bitch. This is between me and him, so how about everyone else just find something else to do..."

The kitchen was deserted; the staff had apparently taken the fire alarm seriously and evacuated immediately. Nancy glanced around without moving her head. She saw a knife in lunging distance. Yeah, that was going to help a lot against a gun.

In smooth, rapid movements Nasser's three bodyguards had their guns out and trained on Krieger. They wouldn't fire, though. They couldn't risk Krieger getting a shot off.

Maybe. Maybe they couldn't. Nancy still didn't know where Desjardins was, and she was suddenly sure that one of the supposed bodyguards was going to turn and take her and George out.

Then Joe came through the doors and into the kitchen, and the bodyguards turned their weapons on him. Krieger took advantage of the distraction to get his arm around Nasser's neck, and pressed the muzzle of his gun against Nasser's chin. "Great," Joe muttered. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Go, now," Krieger said, his voice cold.

"You think you're getting out of here? This place is surrounded by agents," Joe said, crossing his arms. "You shoot Nasser, then what?"

"Then he's dead," Krieger returned. "Considering what he did to me, that's more than he deserves."

Nasser's eyes were wide, rolling in his tanned face. "Krieger—"

"_Shut up!_" Krieger bellowed. "You and her. You and that bitch who ruined all this. Everyone else get the fuck out."

George glanced over at Nancy. Nancy could tell that her friend was ready to try something, even if it was desperate, to make sure Krieger didn't get off that easily. Her knuckles were white as she flexed her fists.

That was when Ned walked in. From the other room the sounds of the evacuating crowd had faded; now all they heard was the dull ringing echo of the fire alarm.

Ned took in the scene at a glance, and to his eternal credit, the only response Nancy saw in his face was a tensing in his jaw. He brought his gun up, his non-dominant hand cupping the butt to keep it level.

"You too?" Krieger said incredulously.

"Yeah," Ned said. "Did I just hear you threatening my girlfriend? _Again_?"

"What are you going to do about it?" Krieger asked, pivoting to make sure Nasser's body shielded his. "We stay here long enough and the decision's going to be out of our hands."

"Really," Ned said calmly. "Because this place is surrounded with a fucking SWAT team. Good job there, psycho. That little toy surprise is being disassembled as we speak. You aren't walking away from this. And you say another _fucking_ threat to my girlfriend and we can just get this over with right now."

"Uh," Nasser said, his face shading a deeper purple.

"Yeah, you too," Ned said, although his eyes were still on Krieger. "So put your shit down, asshole. Nan, if you would get the door?"

Nancy could tell from the look on Krieger's face that he was getting desperate. George had managed to gradually move over to the prep counter, and her fingers closed around the handle of the butcher knife there.

A lot of things happened at once, then.

Nancy took a step toward the door, and as Krieger snarled, his hand sweeping out, George picked up the knife and threw it.

Nasser twisted, losing his balance and pulling at Krieger's arm.

Joe moved between Krieger and Nancy, his fists clenched as he set off at a dead run. He batted at the gun, grasping Krieger's forearm, and a bullet hit the other wall. Ned moved forward as Nancy swung open the kitchen door, afraid to take her eyes off him and Joe. George was wading into the fray too, backed by the bodyguards, and Krieger let out a bellow of rage.

Especially when four vested, armed police officers came through the door Nancy was holding open for them.

* * *

><p>Susannah and Leila were reunited at the bar a block away from the Victoria Hotel. That seemed just about as logical as anything else that had happened, Bess thought. Apparently the hotel had evacuated and the bad guy had been taken down in the usual spectacular fashion, and Bess hadn't been there to witness any of it.<p>

But she did get to see the joy on Susannah's face as she swept Leila into her arms, and that was something.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Susannah kept saying, stroking Leila's hair. Nancy's smile was weary, her clothes streaked with dust. Ned had his arm looped around her waist, and he didn't look like he was a hundred percent either.

Bess was dying to ask Nancy exactly what had happened to her, but she also wanted to see what would happen when Darius and Susannah saw each other. She could always catch up with Nancy later. Susannah had knocked back a couple of martinis and their reunion promised to be at least a little dramatic.

Susannah didn't disappoint. Leila was clinging to her mother's leg when Susannah punched Darius in the arm. "What did you think you were doing, running away with our daughter?"

"It was Krieger," Darius said, defensively. "He had threatened me, threatened to hurt the people I love. I thought that if I could hide Leila, I could keep her safe, and he'd have no reason to come after you."

"You should have _told me,_" Susannah insisted, her voice still shaking a little. "I was _terrified_ every single second she was gone. Every _second_!"

Darius hung his head. "I... I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

"So—you knew? You knew what he was doing?"

"Not the whole time. I overheard something, and..."

George came over and bumped her shoulder against Bess's. "How many do I need to catch up?" she asked, nodding at Bess's nearly-empty martini glass.

Bess glanced up at her cousin. "Two. You mean you aren't going to be the responsible adult tonight?"

George snorted. "Fuck that. I think going through a hostage situation definitely entitles me to a drink or two."

"Hostage situation?" Bess's eyes widened.

"Joe can tell you about it," George said, nodding at the bartender for a drink.

Bess shot a wide smile at Joe as he walked over to her. Susannah and Darius had taken a table and were sitting close to each other, and Bess had a good feeling about them. She wasn't quite sure how long it took for terrified mothers to reconcile with estranged ex-husbands, though. Maybe just a few rounds of tequila would do the trick. They just needed a responsible adult around to make sure Leila didn't wander off and provoke another country-wide manhunt. Childhunt. Whatever.

"So where's Frank," Bess asked, when Joe slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Joe shot her an affronted look. "What the hell, man? No 'Happy to see you,' no 'glad you didn't get blown up'?"

"Just wanted to make sure one of us was sober enough to keep an eye on the kid, and he's usually the best candidate." Bess pressed her lips to his cheek. "Also, hello there, handsome. It's great to see you, and I'm glad you didn't get blown up."

"He's buying plane tickets. I don't know why, but he seems really damned impatient to get back home."

"And you?"

"Eh." Joe gave Bess's side a little squeeze. "I could wait."

"Hey. Good job."

Bess's gaze found the face behind the words, and had to force herself not to narrow her eyes. Dominique looked fantastic, and her eyes were alight with admiration. "You guys considered a career with the agency?"

Bess glanced from Dominique to Joe. "Oh, I don't know," Joe said lightly. "We keep busy."

"Well, you should keep it on the table," Dominique said, heading over to the bar.

"Catch up with Desjardins?"

Dominique nodded. "Yeah. Picked him up, plus a few other people who were helping this crackpot. This could have been a _massively_ ugly incident."

Bess squeezed Joe's side. "Okay, we definitely deserve a round. Me because I think I'll need it to hear this story, and you because you're a national hero. _And_ because Frank's not here to have his."

"Then we should get Nancy and Ned over here too," Joe pointed out, then glanced around. "Uh, they were just here... I'm sure they were. Right?"

Bess nodded, then glanced over at Dominique. "You're sure you picked all the bad guys up, right? Because I plan on getting smashed, not tracking those two lovebirds down."

* * *

><p>The balcony wasn't quite deserted, but when Ned led her out onto it, Nancy went willingly. She felt incredibly conspicuous. At least she had been able to ditch the bandanna and apron. She still looked like an obvious tourist, though. An obvious tourist who desperately needed a comb and a shower and a change of clothes, and a good night's sleep.<p>

Ned's fingertips against hers made all those things seem far, far less urgent.

"Thank God you're safe."

Nancy looked up at Ned, giving him a small smile. "Hey, it was quick. Nothing blew up. Everything's good."

Ned tilted his head down to touch his forehead to hers, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Look, I've walked into enough rooms and seen you at gunpoint for the rest of my life, okay? Can we make a rule about that?"

"I'll mention it," she said, with mock seriousness. "When a bad guy pulls out a gun, I'll tell him that I have a rule. We'll negotiate something."

"I mean it, Nan."

She cupped his cheek. "I'm glad _you're_ okay," she told him. "I can't believe you walked back in there. And you were so fucking calm..."

"Are you joking? I was terrified." He moved back a little to gaze into her eyes. "All I could think of was that if I lost you..."

Her lips quirked up in a small humorless smile. "You won't lose me."

Ned's chuckle was similarly humorless. "You have to be the single most delusional, risk-taking, crazy, gorgeous, sexiest woman..."

"You kind of undermined yourself there at the end," she said softly, just before he tilted his head and kissed her. She ran her fingers through his hair, swaying against him; the high his kiss gave her was making her head pound a little harder, but for this, it was worth it.

He pulled back and they breathed each other's breath for a moment. She turned to kiss his palm, and her lips brushed against his wedding ring. His fake wedding ring.

She took his hand, touching the ring. "So," she murmured. "Just when I was getting used to wearing these."

Ned looked down at his hand. "Yeah," he murmured. "It's been nice."

"Waking up together."

"Being with you all this time."

"Yeah." Nancy put her head on Ned's shoulder. "I'm going to miss it."

"I wish..."

When he didn't finish his statement, Nancy moved back, gazing up at him. "You wish what?"

"That we didn't have to stop pretending," he said softly, and the expression in his eyes lifted her heart to her throat. "That we _weren't_ pretending."

Nancy swallowed. "That it was real."

Ned nodded. "Yeah."

Her lips parted. She had wanted that too. She still wanted that. She just hadn't been sure that he felt the same way...

Ned had just opened his mouth to say something when Bess called out from behind them. "Hey, get back in here! Knowing Hardy we'll be on a plane an hour from now, and I fully intend to take advantage of the bar."

Nancy fought down the urge to snap at her friend. She could think of a few other things she fully intended on taking advantage of. Starting with twelve more seconds to find out what Ned had been about to say.

Ned gave her a tight smile. "What do you say?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"I say that I'll have one, and I've had such a rough day that if we _are_ on a plane in an hour, I'll sleep the whole way back."

They walked back inside. Darius, Leila, and Susannah were sitting together; Dominique was flirting outrageously with some guy at the bar; George and Joe were gesturing at the game displayed on the screen over the bar. "Another round, bartender!" Bess cried out with a wide grin.

Nancy nestled against Ned's side, and he squeezed her gently in answer.

Another hour of pretending to be his wife.

Someday—maybe soon—she wouldn't have to pretend.

Nancy turned her head. "Love you," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Love you too," he replied, brushing his lips against her forehead.


	20. epilogue

**This epilogue does contain adult situations, although it's been edited down from the original content, so it's not incredibly explicit. The full version is available elsewhere. Hope you enjoyed the story! And if you are interested in a sequel, let me know in a review. :)**

* * *

><p>Their reservations at Chez Louis were for seven o'clock. Nancy spent a full week planning her outfit, with Bess's help. She had to have something sexy but not slutty, something that wouldn't leave her freezing if they went for a walk beside the Muskoka but wouldn't have her sweating if they stayed in the restaurant.<p>

In the end Nancy and Bess decided on a one-shoulder column dress that clung to her breasts, clinched at her slender waist and fell down to her ankles. Her reddish-gold hair shone against the burgundy fabric. Nancy left her neck bare and put on a pair of diamond stud earrings, a paste-diamond cuff, and a rich, deep shade of lipstick.

When Ned picked her up at six-thirty, he came to her father's door wearing a charcoal suit and a crisp blue shirt, his cheek gleaming-smooth. Hannah was fully aware of how important the night promised to be for Nancy, and Carson, lingering over his after-dinner coffee, was the very picture of studied calm. Nancy saw a strange gleam in his eye, though, and a few days before he had shut himself in his study for a very long phone conversation. But Carson knew how to keep his cards close to his vest, and all her vague questioning had gone for nothing.

If Ned had asked her father's permission, then tonight was definitely going to go the way she had been thinking it might, and the expense of the dress was _definitely_ worth it.

Ned opened the car door for Nancy, then crossed to the driver's side. "So," he said, as he slipped behind the wheel.

"So," Nancy agreed, glancing over at him. Damn, he looked good.

Ned started the car and worked his gloves off, as she folded hers on her lap. River Heights in January was gorgeous, though bitterly cold. Ice glazed the bare branches and the porch railings, left slippery patches on the sidewalks. The residual heat from the ride over had left Ned's car like a moderately warm cocoon, and Nancy shivered in relief when the vents breathed warm against her bare skin. She had her coat open, but it was still on her shoulders.

"You look amazing," he told her, and glanced up at her eyes.

She gave him a soft grin in return. "You don't look so bad yourself," she told him, and reached over to gently run the back of one finger down his smooth jawline. "You do clean up nice."

Ned chuckled and kissed her finger, then turned to put the car in gear. "Prepare to be amazed, sweetheart."

But she wasn't, not really. He pulled up at Chez Louis, not some new, mysterious location. The hostess found their reservation and seated them quickly, at a table set with a half-dozen roses in a cut crystal vase, the same as the other tables. When the waitress came for their drink order, Ned didn't order a bottle of expensive champagne; instead, he suggested a bottle of nice red and raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she wanted it too. She gave him a little nod and when the wine came, she took a sip and closed her eyes in approval.

"How long until you leave?" Ned asked, once the waitress had brought a selection of rolls for them.

Nancy finished buttering her bite and put the piece down, absently wiping her fingers on her napkin. "Classes start again in a week," she said reluctantly.

Ned reached across the table and she gave him her hand. "I'm really proud of you, Nan."

She smiled at him again. For the longest time she had resisted following in her father's footsteps; she had known that she would probably get in as a legacy to her father's alma mater, but that wouldn't make the work any easier. The more she studied the law, the more she wanted to work as a prosecutor, someone who fought for the rights of the same people she had spent most of her teenage years helping. She hated how long her studies would keep her away from Ned and her friends and family, but as he had told her when they had talked about it, they had been apart before. They had managed to weather that.

Plus, he had told her, brushing his lips against her fingertips, absence _definitely_ made their reunions hotter.

She still had a good chunk of coursework left before she would be awarded her degree, and that made her wonder if Ned really was going to ask her to marry him. Their experience together in Cairo six weeks before had been amazing, and she had meant it when she'd said that she loved pretending she really was married to him. If they _were_ married soon, though... their marriage would be the kind that had to be sustained by stolen weekends and hastily-packed suitcases, webcam sessions and long emails. Maybe that long phone call her father had taken had been Ned asking, realistically, about the hours a new prosecutor or associate had to put in at the office. Those hours were brutal. Maybe he'd tell her that they should wait a few years to even get _engaged_—

Nancy sighed silently and glanced up at Ned again, keeping her smile in place. This was Ned, and this was the same place he had proposed to her before. She didn't know why she was so worried.

But there was no dozen roses, no bottle of champagne. No string quartet gathered around their table to provide a soundtrack to one of the most meaningful moments of her life.

Ned stroked his thumb across her knuckles. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too," she murmured, and their gazes held for a moment, until the waitress returned to their table.

The dinner, as always, was amazing, and they talked about what Bess and George were up to, Ned's projects at work, some rumors Nancy had already heard about her upcoming courses. Slowly Nancy relaxed, stopped tentatively chewing every bite of food just in case the ring was in it, and let herself have a second glass of wine. She didn't want to get too drunk, though; she wanted to remember tonight, even if it only ended with them in bed.

Ned insisted on dessert and they decided to split an apple pastry dish. "Well, this has been an amazing meal," Nancy said, swirling her spoon through the ice cream, picking up a strand of caramel and a bit of cinnamon-sugar apple. "I bet I'm gonna be expected to put out after this."

Ned's brown eyes glowed as they met hers. "I'm not gonna object to that," he told her, taking his own bite of dessert. "I would say we should go for a walk out on the river after this, but I'm stuffed, and it's effing freezing outside."

Nancy's heart sped up a little. The last time he had proposed it had been after a meal like this, while they were walking together out beside the river. But it had been summer, and sunset, and... not real.

"Too bad I didn't pack my rated-for-forty-below coat," Nancy said lightly.

Ned smiled. "Well," he said, scooping up another bite of dessert, "I did have something else in mind."

Nancy smiled back. "Why do I have a feeling it involves seeing what I'm wearing under this."

Ned chuckled and didn't respond.

After the meal was finished, when they were walking out to Ned's car, slowly, he turned to her. "Look, I'm off through Monday," he said. Despite the cold, Nancy felt a warm flush through her chest. "You want to get away for a few days?"

"I'd love to," she said, and bumped against his shoulder. "Tomorrow?"

"I was thinking tonight."

"Oh," she said quietly, pulling back to look at him.

"Let me just take you by your house so you can pack some stuff."

He took her arm and they slowly made their way across the slippery lot. Nancy had to take small, tentative steps in her heels. "Like what kind of stuff?" she asked, once they were back in his car. "Bikini?"

Ned made a low growl of approval. "Well... I guess that's kinda out, in this weather."

"So no Jacuzzi, then."

Ned tapped the tip of her nose. "Good point. Eh... not this time."

She nodded. "Cute dresses? Slutty dresses? ...That nurse's outfit I've been saving?"

Ned, who was pulling his car to a stop at the parking lot exit, whipped his head around to look at her, then chuckled when he saw the expression of wide-eyed innocence on her face. "How about your entire lingerie drawer? And, sure, some dresses... the usual."

"And my lockpick kit."

"Well, duh."

When Nancy and Ned walked into her father's house, a light dusting of snow had started falling. Hannah jumped up from the couch, where she was watching television, and scrutinized their faces. "Did you have a nice dinner?" she asked cautiously, loathe to ask the question that was clearly written on her face.

Before either of them could answer, Carson Drew appeared in the entrance of his study. "Ned," he greeted his daughter's boyfriend.

"Mr. Drew," Ned answered with a little nod.

"Well?" Hannah said, practically exasperated.

"We had a lovely dinner," Nancy said, glancing between her father and Ned, trying to read their faces. "Ned has some time off work and since I'm off school, we thought we'd go on a little getaway."

Nancy caught Hannah staring openly at her hands as she worked her gloves off. Her face fell a little when she saw that Nancy's left hand was still bare of any rings. "Well, that will be lovely," Hannah said, putting on a smile. "I'm sure you've missed her, Ned."

"Definitely," Ned agreed.

"Well," Nancy said slowly, watching her father's face, "I'm going to pack a few things, so... I'll be right back."

Once she was on the second floor, Nancy pulled out her cell phone. Three missed calls and a text message from Bess. She closed her bedroom door behind her and called one of her best friends.

"So?" Bess demanded as soon as she answered the call. "_So?_"

"Nothing, yet," Nancy admitted, holding the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she unzipped her dress. Underneath she wore a flame-red bra and thong set trimmed in black lace so thin it was nearly transparent. She decided to leave that on and began going through her dresser drawers, looking for her new pair of matchstick jeans. "Dinner was nice—"

"So did he do anything, like order champagne or say 'Damn, girl, you would look good in a long white dress,' or 'I was thinking about a summer wedding,' or—"

"No, no," Nancy said. "No champagne; we had red wine."

Bess groaned, remembering how drunk they had gotten in Cairo. "Soft music?"

"No," Nancy sighed. "He said something about walking down by the river, if it was warmer, and then he asked if I wanted to get away with him for a few days—"

"Oooooh!" Bess squealed. "So I'll come over tomorrow morning and we'll get you a fantastic wardrobe planned—"

"No we won't," Nancy interrupted. "Because we're leaving _tonight._ I'm up in my room packing. And Ned and Dad are downstairs, and they keep making weird faces at each other—"

"Like angry faces?"

"Like... 'I have a secret' faces."

"Well, then," Bess said, satisfied. "Obviously he asked your dad for permission. So _obviously_ he's going to, I don't know, take you to a meadow and put you on horseback and beg you to say you'll marry him. _Duh._"

"Yeah, that's so the kind of guy Ned is," Nancy laughed. "Look, I have to go soon, but if he does actually propose I'll text you, like, ASAP."

"You mean _after_ you've peeled him off you. Like you two aren't going to fuck as soon as he puts that ring on your finger."

"Eh," Nancy agreed. "Okay, fine. I gotta go."

"Pack the red sweater with the buckles!" Bess ordered. "And that blue cashmere cardigan, and that lip butter..."

"Okay, okay!"

Nancy dumped literally half her underwear drawer into the bag, picking out the faded thin cotton bras and threadbare underwear and tossing those back. She was left with a froth of ribbons and satin and lace and underwire. She went hastily through her closet for sweaters and pants and camis, then found a lacy babydoll she hadn't yet worn. Before she put on a tight grey sweater, she washed her makeup off, then reapplied a touch of mascara and a hint of lip gloss. She put on a gold locket Ned had given her, checked her hair, then smiled at herself in the mirror. This fluttering in her stomach... she wasn't misreading the signs. He had been just as eager as she had been, in Egypt, when they had told each other they didn't want the charade to stop.

She grabbed her usual overnight bag, made sure her birth control pills were packed, and headed downstairs in her black leather jacket.

Hannah glanced up at Nancy when she put her bags down at the foot of the stairs, then over at Carson's closed study door. "So," Hannah said quietly, coming to the girl she had raised practically from a baby. "Do you think..."

Nancy shrugged. "I don't know what to think," she admitted. "I don't think he'd say we should get away together for a few days if he wants to break up with me... but why Chez Louis? Why the great meal and then..."

"Wasn't that how he did it before?"

Nancy nodded. "Yeah, that thing with Jessica..."

Hannah smiled. "Okay, detective," she said. "He just wants to keep you guessing. And he's doing that. So you spent the whole meal waiting for him to get down on one knee..."

"Kinda."

"So he'll probably pull over at the river on the way home and do it there, while you're in the car shivering. And the river is so pretty this time of year, too."

Nancy smiled, and felt one of the knots in her stomach loosen a little. She had been able to hear her own heartbeat for what seemed like hours. It would be nice to just relax, to have a nice long weekend with Ned without anticipating and feeling more and more disappointed every time he _didn't_ take an opportunity to propose. And if he _really_ wanted to fake her out, well, maybe they would just spend their entire trip in bed.

That would be a good trade-off.

Nancy glanced at her father's study door. "How long have they been in there?" she asked, an expression of growing dread on her face.

Hannah patted Nancy on the back. "Not too long," she said. "Only pretty much the entire time you were upstairs. Want me to go get him?"

Nancy considered, then grinned. "Well, just throw some flour and sugar around and he'll come out with his nose up sniffing the air and his stomach growling."

Hannah returned her grin. "We can just give them a couple of minutes. Have a seat."

Ned emerged from the study soon after they sat down, and Nancy found herself leaping to her feet, her gaze centered on his face. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Man, you look great," he said, sweeping his gaze down her outfit. "Ready to go?"

Nancy nodded, then studied her father's face as he followed. "Dad, I know you're probably disappointed I won't be home, and..."

Carson came over to her, wrapping her in a warm hug. "It's okay. You have a couple of days after you get back, right? We'll have a nice dinner together, and catch up on... well, everything." He laughed and released her. "You two have a good time," he said, glancing between the two of them, and Nancy caught that same expression in her father's eyes as he looked at Ned.

"So, what was that about?" Nancy asked, after they had set out.

"What was what about?" Ned asked, negotiating a turn onto the highway.

"You and Dad."

Ned shrugged a little. "Tell you later," he said.

"And where are we going?"

"Not too far," he admitted.

"Do we need to pick up your bag?"

Ned shook his head.

"So you had already planned for me to say yes."

"Maybe."

Nancy chuckled and shook her head. "You are just so sure of yourself," she told him.

"Sometimes," he said, and the quiet tone in his voice told her he wasn't teasing.

Nancy knew the way to the Nickersons' cabin at Fox Lake by heart, and even though she recognized their destination early on, she just settled back, flipping through the radio stations, talking about the last movie she and Bess had seen together, speculating about whether Bess and Joe were ever going to actually admit how they felt about each other. Well, to each other, anyway.

"She's just... I mean, after all this time, it's _Joe._ We've known them since we were kids, practically. And if it went bad..." Nancy shook her head, shivering at the thought.

"And Iola doesn't help."

"Yeah." Nancy adjusted the vent pointing squarely in her direction. "They make such a cute couple, though."

As soon as they walked into the cabin, Nancy noticed all the little things. The white candles on the kitchen table, the firewood already ready in the central fireplace, the door to the bedroom they usually shared already open a little.

When she started heading for that door, Ned moved into her path. "I'll get that," he told her, and grabbed her bags along with his own. She had her jacket unzipped when he returned, now dressed in jeans and a black sweater, but he shook his head. "Not quite... I thought we'd go for a little walk."

Nancy smiled and her heart skipped a beat. Maybe Hannah hadn't been entirely correct.

They snuggled back into their scarves and gloves and went out, the ice crunching under their shoes. The stillness was complete. They were deep in the off-season, and all the other cabins around them were dark. Nancy tilted her head back and gazed up into the deep darkness above her, the stars glittering like crystal above them, and she could see her breath.

The dock was a little slippery under their feet, and she giggled as they clung together, trying to keep their balance. At the end of the dock was the small boat they sometimes used, oars at the ready. She glanced at him and he nodded, and they carefully climbed in.

He handed her a matchbook. "How about you get the lantern," he told her, as he took up the oars.

She couldn't imagine how long all this had taken him. He had taken the time to break up the thin layer of ice that would have formed around the boat, had laid firewood in the hearth for them. Ned had flipped off the lights before they had left the cabin, and once they were out near the center of the lake, she was shivering and the entire earth seemed to be deserted, save for them.

He put the oars aside, and she noticed a heavy blanket at the bottom of the boat. Once she pulled it over her, she sighed in happiness.

They sat quietly there for a moment, as the water lapped gently at the sides of the boat.

"What did Dad say to you?"

Ned chuckled. "That I knew damn well what I needed to do, tonight."

Nancy shifted, taking her gloves off, and reached for his hand. "And what is that."

Their gazes met, and held. Slowly, cautiously, to keep from tipping the boat, Ned moved toward her, and she toward him. The blanket slipped down but she didn't care. In the candlelight from the lantern, his brown eyes were intense on hers, and she found tears rising, shimmering in her sight, without quite knowing why, before he had even said a word.

"I've loved you from pretty much the first second I saw you," he said softly. "You know that, right?"

She nodded, trying to swallow the ache in her throat. "You may have mentioned it," she whispered.

He glanced down at their joined hands, then back to her face. "I can't imagine the rest of my life without you in it," he said. "And maybe that's why I didn't want to do this until now. I didn't want to hear you say that you—that you could. Baby, I have loved you, I have _wanted_ you, wanted a life with you for so long that..." He shook his head. "That every time I hear your voice, every time I see you, touch you, I can't believe that I am the luckiest guy on earth, to have you."

She opened her mouth and he touched her lips with his thumb. "Just... let me get this out," he said, and she nodded.

"I know that as amazing as things were, in Egypt, that it's been a while and maybe you don't... maybe you don't feel the same way about it as I do, right now."

She shook her head, her lips brushing his thumb. "No," she murmured. "I feel the same."

Ned smiled. "And, baby, I _know_ that it's still going to be a while, before we won't be doing the whole weekends-and-holidays thing, but we've been doing that for a long time, and all that means is that when we can finally _be_ together... oh, it's going to be amazing."

She tilted her head. "You aren't worried that we'll get sick of each other? Fight constantly? Lose our _minds_ if we're around each other that much?"

Ned shook his head. "I'm just wondering if we'll ever actually get out of bed," he said. "The thought of having you all to myself, waking up to you..."

She glanced down. "And what about those times you'll be going to bed alone because I'm late at the office," she murmured, almost inaudibly. "When I'm up late going over a case, when I'm tracking down a lead. What about those times."

"What about them?" He touched her chin and tilted her face up. "What about the times _I'm_ late at the office, or when I beg you to show up in something ravishing for the odd dinner at the VP's house? What about the bottle of champagne I'm gonna buy for you when you win your first case, or all those times we'll be over at your dad's house and you'll lapse into legalspeak for an entire meal and I'll just talk to Hannah about the Bears' playoff run?"

Despite herself, despite the thick nervousness rising in her, Nancy had to chuckle.

Ned smiled. "Because you are the hottest, _sexiest_, smartest, most fascinating person I know, and you are what I want. Just you. Is it going to be fucking easy? Of course not. It's never been easy. The only thing that's ever been easy for me, when it comes to you, is loving you." He shook his head. "And yeah, part of me wishes I could lock you in a tower and come back to you every night to find food on the table and you dressed up all sexy for me, but that's not who you are, and that's not who I really want you to be.

"I just want _you_ to be there. To let me in. I want to be the person you go to when you're happy and when you're sad and everything inbetween. When you're upset and when you're angry and when you're frustrated. It was so hard, before—because, _God_, I wanted you so much and it was like every single second I could feel you pulling away from me, and I never want us to be like that again."

She shook her head. "I was afraid," she said. "Because _literally_ any other girl you meet would be easier than me. Easier to live with, to be with." She touched his cheek. "I never wanted to get too attached because I thought you would come to your senses and I just... oh, Ned, baby, you are the only guy who has ever gotten close enough to break my heart."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Same here."

She brushed her thumb over his lips. "I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else, making love to anyone else. You... you are so perfect for me, and I know, I _know_ I'm not easy, that this won't be easy. And I wish, so much, that Dad hadn't picked such a time-consuming profession." She brushed tears from her cheeks and she and Ned both chuckled.

"I wish you were with me all the time," she told him. "Because you're amazing, Ned. You are so fucking handsome, and smart, and brave, and strong in all the ways I wish I could be. I actually ache, a little, when you aren't next to me. And I so wish it could be that easy, that... that us being together would mean we would be _together_, all the time. That you would be _mine_."

"I am yours," he told her. "No matter where I am, baby, I'm yours."

She smiled, her eyes wet again, and leaned in to him. Their kiss was soft, almost tentative, but it sent a flood of warmth through her chest.

"So what are we doing out here," she whispered against his lips, the smile still lingering. "Out here freezing to death on Fox Lake, alone for miles around."

Ned brushed his lips against hers one more time before he pulled back. "I didn't want to go the usual route," he told her. "Like before. The orchestra and the down-on-one-knee thing. I mean, baby, I would buy out Lake Shore Drive and parade down that thing with elephants and tigers and everything else, write your name across the sky, parachute in..."

She was giggling by then. "God, am I glad you didn't."

"Or just wake you up tomorrow morning, when we're both naked and sleepy, and put a ring in the bottom of your coffee cup."

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "That would be a really awkward trip to the emergency room."

He nodded. "So I thought, out here, under the stars... I would just give you a star."

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened it, and the ring was on his palm.

Nancy had never seen herself as one of those girls who would get hysterical if a man ever offered her a diamond. Smile, nod, hug? That was more like her speed, although it would require a man who could keep her attention long enough to propose.

And Ned was the only man she could ever, ever imagine as her husband.

She had _known_ that this was what he was going to do, but she couldn't stop herself from clapping a hand over her mouth, a fresh wave of tears falling down her cheeks. Her gaze flicked from the ring to his eyes to the ring again, the low light catching in the facets of the diamond.

"It's yours," he said softly. "It's always been yours. _I've_ always been yours. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She let out a little sob. "Oh, Ned."

The corner of his lips turned up just a little, although his eyes were glowing with intensity. "Say yes," he whispered. "Dammit, please say yes, or I—"

"Yes," she gasped out, and when she tried to stop crying, her sobs only grew in intensity. "Yes, please, I want to, yes—"

When Ned took her hand, his fingers were shaking, but he still managed to slide the ring onto her finger. His eyes met hers again. "Thank God," he said hoarsely. "Because, baby, your dad said he was going to kill me if that ring wasn't on your finger the next time he saw you—"

She laughed, the cold wind even colder against her wet cheeks as they clung to each other. "This is better than tigers and elephants and skydivers," she murmured into his ear, her breath still hitching a little as she tried to catch it. "Ned, I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby. I hope I said that somewhere in there."

She nuzzled against his cheek. "How are we going to do this?"

"The same way we've been doing it," he said. "We'll just go off and have sex while Bess and Hannah plan our wedding. It's a win-win."

Nancy chuckled. "Wedding showers and planning our honeymoon and finding a place to live, and registering for things we'll never use. Hours and hours trying on dresses. And _you_ will just get to hang out on the couch watching sports."

"See? Win-win."

They kissed again, softly, sweetly, and she shivered when she felt the intensity behind his kiss. When he moved back he pulled aside another blanket to reveal a bottle of champagne and a pair of plastic tumblers. Nancy laughed.

"I was kind of expecting that earlier."

Ned shook his head. "Oh ye of little faith."

It took them too long to wrestle the cork off, but eventually Ned poured their cups and they gave each other a little mock toast. The champagne was still nice and cool from the night air, and they drank, Ned's arm draped over her shoulders, Nancy's looped around his waist.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "This is perfect," she murmured.

"Yeah, except for having to row back to shore before I can get you out of those clothes."

Nancy shivered. "Please do," she said. "As hot as I am for you right now, I'm more afraid of frostbite."

They held hands all the way back inside, carrying the remainder of the champagne, and Ned flipped on the lights, then led her to the bedroom. In the middle of the bed lay a dozen long-stemmed red roses.

Nancy chuckled and kissed him. "Any more surprises?"

"Depends on what you're wearing under there," Ned growled as he returned the kiss. He grasped her at the waist and pulled her to him, his mouth hot and demanding against hers. She threaded her fingers in his hair, arching up against him, letting out a little whimper as he grasped her ass.

As soon as she broke the kiss, Ned brushed his lips down the line of her jaw, to the soft skin under her ear, and she shivered, feeling a weak pulse between her thighs at the contact. She grasped the hem of his sweater and urged it up.

When Ned pulled back, Nancy glanced over at the roses. "You didn't want to put petals all over the bed?"

He shrugged, tugging his sweater over his head. "It makes a mess and it seems like a waste," he said. "Do you want to?"

She shook her head, unbuckling his belt and pulling it out of the loops, then opening his pants. Ned watched her with some amusement, then tilted her chin up, claiming her mouth again. She kept blindly opening his pants, pushing them and his underwear down, as their tongues tangled. He backed her against the mattress and she pushed his undershirt up.

Ned pulled back again and gave her outfit a pointed glance. "Babe, you are _way_ overdressed."

He reached for the fastening of her jeans, and she shook her head. "You did so much for me tonight," she said, pushing his hand away. "Why don't you just lie down and let me take care of you."

Ned's lips curved up. "I like the way that sounds," he said, giving her neck a soft nip before he took the rest of his clothes off. He swept up the roses and she went to the kitchen to find a book of matches, then lit a few pillar candles. When she turned off the overhead light, the room was still too dim, so she turned on the bedside lamp. The shaded bulb cast Ned's handsome features in a soft warm glow.

She came over beside the bed and slowly took her sweater off, tossing her hair, then peeled the incredibly tight jeans down her legs. Ned's gaze was warm and intent on her, and when he saw the red and black underwear, he sucked in a quiet breath.

She sat down beside him on the comforter, traced her fingertips down the center of his chest, slowly. When he moved she shook her head. "I told you," she said softly. "Let me do this for you."

"Can I at least touch you," he said softly, and touched her hand, the ring he had put there.

She glanced down at his thumb, stroking against the band. "This is real, isn't it," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said softly, reaching for her. She leaned down and kissed him, softly, as Ned laced his fingers through her hair.

Her husband. One day he would be her husband.

They had been children, in Cairo, playing house. But Ned would be there, _hers_. Hers for the rest of their lives.

She closed her eyes after, tilting her head back. "Oh my _God_," she moaned, collapsing to him.

He chuckled. "You can just call me Ned," he said, brushing a lock of slick-sweat hair off her cheek, and she shot him a dirty look.

She had just finally gasped her breath back when her cell phone chirped in the other room.

She groaned. "Fuuuuuck..."

Ned gently rolled her off him, and slipped off the bed. He returned still naked, with her purse.

She smiled. "Thanks," she said softly as she pulled the phone out. Two voicemails and a text message, all from Bess.

Nancy chuckled.

"If I have to take that thing away from you and hide it, I will," Ned said casually, but she could tell from the expression on his face that he kind of meant it.

"No, no," she assured him, pulling up the message.

"Who is it?"

"Bess."

_Climb off your fiance and CALL MEEEEEEE_

Nancy laughed. "I swore I'd call her once..." She trailed off.

"Once what?"

She glanced meaningfully down at her finger, and Ned chuckled. "Okay, was there anyone on earth who _didn't_ think I was proposing tonight?"

"Nope," Nancy said serenely, scrolling to the contact list on her phone. When she tried to call Bess, the phone protested that she had no service.

"Shit," she muttered, reaching for her thong. The only place in the cabin with good reception was the mud room beside the kitchen, she remembered.

She stood there, shivering in her bra and underwear, listening to the phone ring. "_Ohmygod tell me everything,_" Bess squealed as soon as the call connected.

Nancy laughed, her breath hitching a little in her excitement. "He said yes," Nancy teased her friend.

"Oh you _liar_," Bess returned. "Seriously, girl, this is like the most romantic thing _ever_."

Nancy recapped Ned's proposal for Bess, lowering her voice a little when she heard Ned rummaging around in the kitchen. "So... I guess we're getting married," she wrapped it up.

Bess squealed again. "I cannot _wait_ to help you start planning! And Nancy I _swear to God_, if you miss your wedding I am going to _kill you_. After Ned kills you."

"I'll send a memo to the Chicago criminal element that they need to clear their calendars," Nancy joked.

When she walked into the living room, a fire was crackling to itself in the fireplace and Ned was on the couch, in his underwear. Two glasses and the champagne bottle stood on the coffee table.

Ned chuckled when he saw her sauntering in, clad only in her underwear. "So what did Bess say?"

"That she would kill me if I missed our wedding." She sat down beside him and snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder. "This is so romantic," she sighed, gazing at the fire.

Ned dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "The company is even better," he said huskily.

They finished off the champagne, and Ned got up to throw another log onto the fire. When he returned to the couch, Nancy stretched, arching, gazing up at him. His gaze traced down to her chest, her curves burnished in the firelight, down to the black and red lace barely covering the join of her thighs.

He wanted her again, and his desire made her blood flush hot.

_Hers._

He reached for her, and she rose willingly as he pulled her to her feet, claiming her lips roughly again. She slipped her arms up, burying her hands in his hair, arching to press her body against the length of his, as his tongue slipped against hers. His hand drifted down her back and then he was lifting her so their hips were level, and she parted her legs, pressing on his shoulders for leverage so she could wrap her legs around him.

She was shivering a little when he picked her up, and she realized when he laid her down on the rug in front of the fireplace that he had spread a blanket there, too. He propped himself on his side and traced a slow teasing line over her, his fingertips glancing over her.

He looked almost dangerously intense in the firelight, but he had never hurt her while they were making love. Losing her virginity to him had made her ache, made her sore, but he had been so gentle, so cautious with her. His delight the first time they had made love had been infectious, and thinking about it even now was enough to make her shiver.

After they made love, she blinked lazily up at him. "Mmm." She ran her hand through his hair.

Ned pulled back, gazing down into her eyes. "I love you, babe," he said softly. "Every time you were here with me I imagined this, imagined making love to you here..."

"Every time?" She smiled. "We were coming here for years, before..."

"And that's how long I've been thinking about it."

They parted, slowly, and she rolled onto her side to face him, to press her chest against his. "What else have you been fantasizing about, all these years?"

"A lot of different things." He pushed a lock of sweat-slick hair from her cheek. "And the one that keeps coming back to me, is waking up next to you. No sneaking off, no walk of shame, no dreading the day the vacation's over. Just you beside me." His mouth stretched into a grin. "Hopefully naked."

She reached up and kissed him, slowly. "Then that's what I want," she said quietly. "That's what I want you to promise me, for my wedding present. I don't care about anything else, I don't care where we are or who's with us, what I'm wearing, any of it. I want to wake up next to you knowing that for the rest of our lives, I always have a place, by your side."

"Oh, Nan." He kissed her gently. "You always have. Whether you take my name, whether you're working so hard you spend the night on the floor of your office..."

"Do you not want me to take your name?"

"Sweetheart... I've always loved your name, but when I see 'Nancy Nickerson'... it does make me a little hard."

She chuckled. "Well then. When I become Nancy Nickerson, I hope I can still do that."

"Babe, you could be wearing a sackcloth and ashes and I'd still want you."

"You always know just what to say," she teased him, drawing him to her for another kiss. He rolled on top of her and they made out lazily, slick with sweat, gleaming in the firelight.

When he pulled back, he gazed down at her wonderingly. "You said yes," he said, his voice hushed, almost reverent.

"Yeah," she agreed, drawing her fingertips through his hair, her eyes growing wet. "Yes. Yes, so many times, yes."


End file.
